A new app caught my eye this morning. Well, it caught the eye of the impossibly skinny version of me that’s constantly battling to find a way out of last night’s cheese and wine binge. And the one the night before.
With the rise of the selfie and the upgraded after-sex selfie (vom) we’re scrutinising ourselves, and allowing others to do the same, more than ever before. So the obvious answer is to alter as much about our static selves as possible until only the dead look in our eyes gives us away. Enter SkinneePix – the app that will instantly trim 15lbs off any photo of you. Aside from the horrific spelling trauma in its name, there seems to be only one place the app really trims the fat and that’s in a user’s noggin.
Okay, so maybe it might help spur people to lose that last 15lbs because they’ve seen into the future how good they look but in reality it just builds up the facade of perfection and most of us won’t get off the sofa to do it in real life. The saying used to go that you can lie to everyone else, but not yourself, but now I say that’s a load of old poppycock. Stuff like this has meant we’re so adept at lying to ourselves that we search out any opportunity to mask who we really are in a digital form.
We’re losing it completely – searching out thigh gaps instead of filling in the gaps in our brains. Where the need for a selfie sits we’re using up valuable space that would be better spent on self-nourishment. The craving for compliments and the positive comments of strangers leaves little room for passion directed at a cause – something real to believe in and hold on to.
Human beings will always strive for self-improvement – it’s how we’ve come this far. But I’m pretty darn certain the great thinking of the last millennia wasn’t achieved alongside the constant gibbering surrounding our appearance. I’d have to sit very still and be constantly coiffed for the rest of my life to look half decent.
AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT.
And I’m okay with being less than half decent sometimes because it’s not imperative to my job that I look a certain way. I get stuff done. That’s all my boss/clients/colleagues care about. Course it helps if I’ve washed off the dog saliva and yesterday’s makeup before applying a fresh layer but I’m sure they would forgive me if I forgot one day in order to secure a million pound contract for the rest of our lives. Priorities, people.
My face is my face. I might not always like it but it has the required number of eyes, noses and lips that I need to get me through my day. My mum always used to marvel at how different people can look with exactly the same features and I’m the same. The way a slight crook in a nose means someone looks different to me is amazing. So you can take your skinny face app and shove it. I’m going to be more excited when someone invents the hamster cheek app – or I’ll fill my face with cheese and take my own. Either way it beats lying about who I am to myself and everyone else because I think it makes me appear more acceptable.
Angharad is a former radio journalist balancing a career in PR with an insatiable writing habit that spans more topics than she can count on her smaller-than-average hands. She's passionate about the media, women's rights and politics with a love of travel, culture, entertainment and all things lifestyle on the side. Interests include prolific online shopping (bit of a reputation in the office), musicals, dinosaurs (be honest, they're awesome) and tweeting anything and everything from @Welsh_PR