The ‘Brighton Belle’ blog is just one of the many new blogs taking over the baton of pushing unachievable perfectionism from some of the more established names. According to Libby Cartright, the perky redhead behind this blog, mere mortals like you and I can make up for our drab and dreary lives by buying Fairtrade clothes, and ecologically sound make-up. Follow her advice and soon you too could be sitting on the balcony of your swanky marina apartment, sipping cocktails as the breeze gently tousles your tumbling, abundant tresses and a deliciously gorgeous man dotes on your every word and move.
Bloggers like Cartright are a danger, especially to teenagers or anyone who may already be suffering low self-esteem. Self-harm statistics in this group are on the rise, with experts pointing to social media as one of the main culprits. Cartright and her fellow bloggers flaunt their perfect lives, making readers feel that they are less worthy when they don’t achieve the same status.
I began reading some of the comments under the article but soon stopped, knowing it would only make it all so much worse. Staring out of the window, I watched two toddlers in the park below playing in the sunshine, their nannies conversing and laughing with their charges. I wanted to breathe in that happiness, that simplicity, and have it smother the roiling nausea that now filled me. Reaching for my phone, I pulled up Tilly’s email and pressed reply.
Dear Tilly, please don’t worry about all this. I’m fine and am not letting it bother me. As Sam says, it will soon be yesterday’s news.
I added a smiley face here.
Just unplug, relax and enjoy the rest of your honeymoon! Everything is under control. Lots of love, Libby xxx
I felt bad lying to Tilly, but it was done with love. She didn’t need to know that I felt as if my life was spinning out of control. My business had been attacked and criticised in a national paper, as well as online – I didn’t yet know what that would mean for the blog or its sponsors. It could follow the ‘any publicity is good publicity’ route or it could go the opposite way entirely. The theme of making a good and happy life, rather than a perfect one, was a soundbite that was gaining traction. It was also one I totally agreed with. I’d never set out to give off some pretence of perfection. Was that really how people saw my blog? Had anyone ever read my blog, or watched a video, and come away from it feeling less worthy? The thought of that physically sickened me.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach and tried to calm my spinning mind. Tilly was right. Charlie probably would have something logical and comforting to say about it all. But I’d forfeited my chance to ever again ask him for such wisdom. A sad, strangulated laugh escaped from me – a perfect life? Hardly! That anonymous writer knew nothing about me. They had made suppositions, applied their own beliefs to my posts and made assumptions far from the truth. But there it was in black and white. My shallow, narcissistic values on display to the world. It didn’t matter whether the words were true or not. The damage was done.
* * *
‘You must ignore them!’ Gina’s hands flew as she talked, rings glinting as they caught the low sun as we sat together for our evening meal. ‘These people, they know nothing about you. They are ignorant and small-minded.’
‘I know. I keep telling myself that.’
Dad broke off a piece of the warm, crusty bread Gina had brought home to go with a lavish salad spread over the rich oak dining table. ‘It doesn’t sound like you are doing a very good job at convincing yourself.’
I speared a cherry tomato and popped it in my mouth. To be honest, I hadn’t been hungry but, being Italian, Gina had insisted, telling me that her family always discussed the most important things over food. I shrugged my shoulders at Dad’s comment.
‘One minute I think I am but there’s something in the back of my mind that keeps niggling at me.’
‘Which is?’ Dad topped off my wine glass before moving to Gina’s and his own.
‘What if this person was right? What if I am, without meaning to, giving readers an idea of how they are supposed to dress, or act, or live?’
‘People are usually intelligent enough to make up their own minds, Libby.’
‘I know. But what if some insecure teenager watched a video or read a post and thought it meant more than it should have. I’ve never shared the bad stuff on my blog. I didn’t think it was anything people would want to see. There’s enough bad stuff going on in the world without me doing a video about having a crappy day. I suppose it also felt a bit too… I don’t know, a bit too personal. I wanted people to read my blog or watch a post and feel cheered up by it.’
‘Which they do. Your comments speak for themselves. Also, didn’t you say the solicitor who helped you with the contract said that your blog had kept his wife company nursing her babies?’
I smiled at the reminder, but it was now a bitter-sweet memory because it had also involved Charlie. ‘He did.’
‘There you go, then.’
‘But what if for every, say, five or ten people like that, there’s one who thinks I’m living this perfect life and, unless they are doing the same, they’re less of a person? What if I’m doing more harm than good?’ My voice had risen in pitch as tears pushed their way from my eyes and trickled down my cheeks. A gnawing, panicky gripe twisted inside me. I pushed my plate away, the food I’d eaten suddenly sitting heavy in my stomach.
‘You’re not going to let a stranger’s vitriolic tirade ruin something you’ve worked so hard on and that makes you happy, are you?’ Dad asked, his brow creased with concern.
I wiped my tears away with the crisp linen napkin. ‘I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do.’
37
A couple of days later I’d made my decision. I quickly opened an email.
Here goes nothing. Wish me luck, Mum. Love you. Wish you were here xxx
Balancing my phone on the dressing table in the guest room Gina and Dad had prepared for me over a fortnight ago now, I squared my shoulders, took a couple of deep breaths and pressed record.
‘Hi, everyone. Apologies for the different setting and quality of this video but I’m away from home and so making the best of what I have available.
‘This isn’t a post I had ever planned to make and, as you can see, it’s not just the setting that’s changed. I expect many of you know about the article that was in the news a few days ago, berating certain bloggers for pushing a vision of unattainable perfection, which for some followers could have serious consequences. Brighton Belle was named as one of the blogs accused of this. I’ve spent the last few days turning this over and over in my mind. I never meant for the blog to be taken like that and I can only hope that it isn’t. I don’t have a perfect life, and I never meant to give the impression that I have. I just wanted to create something that lifted my spirit and if it lifted someone else’s too, that would be an amazing bonus.
