Born-Again Virginstagrammer

I have entered into the world of Instagram. Well, I did awhile ago but I was confused about its purpose. I have since figured it out, so now I am a born-again virginstagrammer (THAT was a fun portmanteau! However probably not what Lewis Carroll envisioned whilst he was high writing Alice in Wonderland. Or perhaps it was.)  It’s mostly populated by youth. Taking selfies. (New word! I am a lifelong learner.) 

Instagram is like texting your mom pictures. Like, “Hey Mom, look at my garden!” Or, “These are the super cute shoes I bought today!” My phone is full of pictures I have sent to my mother. I am sure these are either a) promptly deleted by accident or b) attempted to be seen by her but she realizes she doesn’t have her glasses and she can’t see the picture so she swears she will look at  them later but then never does.  That’s Instagram. Just a different audience.

At first I started posting pictures to be ironic. (Yes, ironic like a hipster. No, I do not knit. And my glasses are prescription, thank you very much.) So I took a picture of a lizard head. That was fun. Then I started all over when I realized that Instagram was like sending pics to your mom so I started doing it for SERIOUS.  No more lizard heads.  Unless it was a SERIOUS picture of a lizard head. So now my instagram is filled with crap like cute pictures of the dog, the food I am about to eat, or various shots of lattes with bomb ass foam. It is super useless unless you are genuinely interested in my life. I am barely interested in my own life as evidenced my "prolific" posts. And like I said, I can barely get my mother to view pictures of my life, so there you go. 

Ohp, Chester's got another lizard. Gotta go.