In the midst of this virus, many of us are likely spending more time on our phones. I miss the days when my weekly screen report average wasn’t above 5 hours. More time spent on our phones likely means more time spent on social media apps such as Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok, that make it so easy for us to compare ourselves to other people. It’s unsurprising that you may feel insecure about your makeup-less face and the same t-shirt you have had on for two days compared to the girls posting spring back throwbacks from their tropical vacations, or the sixteen-year-old on TikTok that spent hours getting ready for and learning the “Savage” dance that pops up on your for you page.
This brings to mind an article that I read from The New Yorker called the “Age of Instagram Face.” It describes the desired face and bone structure of many celebrities and popular social media users: skin with unseeable pores, large eyes with long eyelashes, high cheekbones, a small nose, and plump lips. This type of standard face of beauty is held by people like the Kardashian-Jenners, Bella Hadid, and Madison Beer, all of whom are noted for their beauty. The aspiration to reach this standard is marked by relatively new and highly marketed beauty products and alterations, including contour and lip fillers, along with the rise of filters and facetune designed to make your face thinner, skin smoother, eyes larger, and lips fuller.
The newly launched Instagram Algorithm that allows for these celebrities’ more popular posts to be more visible makes it even harder for non-standard definitions of beauty to gain aesthetic value. The extent to which people, particularly women, will alter and compare ourselves to fit our culture’s beauty standard is not a new phenomenon; it dates back to foot binding in China and waist training in Medieval Europe. The problem with the “Instagram Face,” theory, however, is that it sets these altered, curated images as a real, socially desirable ideal. Constantly trying to reach this ideal of perfectionism can be detrimental to one’s mental health and self image.
In this time of social distancing, keep this theory in mind; not having a poreless, perfectly tanned face, or a nose that looks as though it’s been sculpted by Michelangelo (or, more realistically, a plastic surgeon) does not lessen your worth, nor should it determine your happiness.
Cited from: https://www.newyorker.com/culture/decade-in-review/the-age-of-instagram-…