We all know why you post your Instagrams of clean eating and $3000 juice bottle packs. I feel obligated to “like” your Lo-Fi filtered picture of your mirror pic at the gym, too. You want us to know that you are trying to be a good human. Thanks for letting us know that you’re taking better shits. You have the same place in my heart that Jaime Lee Curtis and her yogurt have.
Now just how am I supposed to brag to you about the fact that it has been a solid month since I have connected to WiFi? I have no access to Instagram to prove it nor Twitter to publish my feelings. I want all of you to know that I am looking at life through my eyes and not my camera lens. I need to “check-in” to museums and parks on Foursquare. I need to show you that I have not downloaded the Twitter/Instagram software update yet, and that I am actually shaking from not being able to iMessage.
So am I supposed to just send all of my followers a handwritten letter with a drawing of some latté art?
I have been forced into going cold turkey. The side effects that come with going cold turkey are the same for overcoming any addiction. I should clarify, however, that being in Europe and not connected to WiFi is not the same thing as going on an “e-cleanse.” An “e-cleasne” is voluntary, and the fact that we have to call “living life” a name such as “e-cleanse” is doing great things for our virtual generation.
So while I cannot tell you how miserable I am that I cannot play on Tinder, I’ll just have to share with you what it is like being WiFi-less. It’s like when your mom told you that you cannot eat ice cream or else it will ruin your dinner. It’s not as bad as getting your seat taken at Starbucks, however, it’s almost worse.
Being unconnected to WiFi…this is as close as I’ve come to going on a juice cleanse.
Photo by Alasdair McLellan