A Message To Instagram Hotties: We Came Here For The Tits

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Nice Move

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During my daily 10 to 600 minutes of Facebook browsing, I came across something called “What Zelda Ate Today.” Zelda is a spin instructor, and from the sound of her eating habits, a bird. In her post, she claims, “I’m a huge snacker!” then shows the reader the berries she enjoyed as a snack. Imagine if Zelda has you over to her house and says, “I’m a huge snacker. Want a snack?” and then brings over a bowl of berries. You’re not smiling, thinking, “Zelda read my mind. I was in the mood for either berries or dirt.” Instead, you start thinking this is one big joke. You laugh, and when she gets confused, you stand up and grab Zelda by her Lululemon straps. You start get angry and scream, “Where are the fucking pretzels?” She trembles, tears streaming down her cheek, and she babbles, “I don’t have any pretzels.” You start to shake her: “What about the damn pita chips, the hummus, the chips, the microwave popcorn, the fucking drawer with the fun-sized Twix bars for after we say we’re full! Show me!” You look into her eyes, and all you see is confusion. You slow down a bit and the anger subsides. You’re now just as confused as she is–how are you and Zelda even friends? She knows nothing about you. She snacks on berries. This is the problem with Zelda’s food article. She doesn’t understand normal people; she doesn’t understand the difficult relationships people have with food. This article wasn’t read by people snacking on berries; it was read by people who want to look like people who snack on berries, and that will never happen.

You’re probably wondering, “Why get so mad? It’s a dumb internet article–you write those every week.” That’s the thing, though. We’re at the apex of dumb internet articles, and more and more often, they’re coming from a very specific group: hot people. The problem with beautiful people is that they’re given a platform no matter how little they deserve one. That’s never been more apparent than during the Instagram age. There are thousands of accounts with eye-popping amounts of followers specifically because of the person’s squatting stance. Don’t get me wrong, I follow an account called Epic Boobs. I’m a participant in this. But Epic Boobs is all about boobs that, like the view from Mount Everest, are epic. When you follow a hot person, she can’t just be hot. She needs a reason, a purpose. I get that. How does one tell her grandparents that some of her income is due to men jerking off to her ass in yoga pants?

So in an effort to be something more, the beautiful people have discovered “talents.” They are fitness experts or fashionistas or makeup artists. My brother recently showed me a girl he follows who gives sports commentary…in a bikini. You know, just like Linda Cohn on “SportsCenter.” Her commentary could barely be heard above the sound of us rating her boobs. This is where Zelda comes in. She’s a good looking, fit person. Being a cycling instructor can’t be it. She has to be a lifestyle instructor. She has to show you that to have her body, taking her spin class is just the beginning.

After freshman year of college, I lost around 50 pounds and I’ve had varying levels of success and failure keeping it off ever since. People who are naturally skinny (like Zelda) tossing around eating advice drives me crazy. It’s like me telling a blind person to “just hurry up and walk straight.” Weight issues are a combination of learned traits and genetics. You have some control, but you can’t control it all. I eat quickly because my family eats dinner in about three minutes (we’re very classy). I have a barrel chest that, depending on the T-shirt, makes me look like I need a bra because God doesn’t exist. So it’s a little insane for me to hear someone like Zelda or Jenn Selter or girl-with-boobs-I’m-looking-at-to-get-by-on-a-Tuesday to tell me she loves snacking and then encourage me to have a couple berries.

Those people have never had a big meal and poured water over it because it was the only way to stop finishing the calamari. Those people have never gotten up at midnight and gone to the kitchen for a handful of chips and said, “that’s it, no more,” just to come back a little later and say, “that’s it, no more,” and then come back seven more times like he was a cocaine fiend. Telling me to have berries or “unroasted almonds because they’re crunchy just like chips” is as foreign to me as those stories are to them, which is why their “advice” doesn’t come off as genuine at all.

This little rant isn’t for the people with the hot Instagram accounts, because those will never go away. Girls have asses, guys like asses; girls take pictures, guys follow accounts, girls make money, guys comment, “sit on my face.” It’s the circle of life that isn’t going to change. Zelda and her people need to make their very abnormal lives a little more normal. They tell you how to “snack” and “get beach ready” because it wouldn’t be normal if they wrote for people like them. Nobody clicks on “What Zelda Smelled Today Instead Of Eating Because Food Is Fuel And Carbs Are Evil.” This rant is for the people like me–people who think about what they eat, how it’s eaten, and when it’s eaten for about 90 percent of the day. This is for the person who keeps his jeans unwashed so they won’t shrink. The person who went out, got drunk, met a chick who was into him, and thought, “I need some pizza,” then mouth banged five slices. The person who reads an article like “What Zelda Ate,” then opens a bag of pita chips and searches for her beach pictures on Instagram. Those are my people. We are gross. We are real. We eat berries on our cake.

Image via Instagram

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