I love ‘lifestyle’ content. Always have. Still do – albeit with a few more reservations.
You see, I recently had an epiphany in a McDonald’s just off the A616.
But I’ll get to that. Let’s spool back a bit first.
As a teenager, I read any glossy magazine I could get my hands on. Fashion. Food. ‘At home with…’ celebrity interviews. Health. Beauty. Décor.
My 20s were my Pinterest years. Now – more than old enough to know better – I am in a decidedly dysfunctional relationship with Instagram. I should leave. It’s not good for me. I need to stop kidding myself that it will change; that I can change it.
And yet I stay. Sure, I stay to promote my work and for the community I’ve found and built around pregnancy loss. But, if I’m honest, I also stay for the perfectly put-together mothers, the colour-coordinated gym gear, the tablescapes, the heatless curl methods, the #reno reels which truncate months of painstaking DIY and building work into magical 15-second before-and-afters……..
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