I almost spat my food out.

Because while women have spent years dealing with unsolicited labels, this one weirdly stung. I can handle being called a blonde(ish) bimbo, a flirt (for maintaining eye contact while having a normal conversation, mind you), or even a “femcel” (for not wanting to go on a date) – but this one genuinely made me stop and think.

Suddenly, I was looking at my own life through someone else’s lens.

I’ve always viewed Instagram in the same way I used to play The Sims – a little digital version of yourself where you create a world, show the best bits, and have a bit of fun. It isn’t real life, it never has been. 

Yet somehow, I ended up with a faceless burner account because I subconsciously felt weird about people seeing something I genuinely enjoy.