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I have seen lots of talk lately of being an Insta-Mum. Presumably Insta-Mums are perfectly styled women, with homes that contain only white furnishings and never an item out of place. I’ll be honest. I would LOVE to be one of these women. Sometimes I am. Fleetingly. Most of the time my real life gets in the way.
My own Instagram feed is often a mixture of photographs of my daughters, brands I’m working with and unruly photographs of myself with no make up and unkempt hair.
Here is a photo of me attempting to be an Insta-Mum, on my daughter’s first Birthday:
I’ve probably got too many chins to be an Insta-Mum anyway, but here is the real me:
Me, in my natural form. Being loud. Probably swearing.
In this photo I’m shouting because a group of ducks were taking flight and I was just a tiny bit terrified..! Daisy is relatively unfazed, as you can see. She isn’t bothered about the ducks and is just watching to see if she can have some of the snacks that we have put down for them. The snacks were rice cakes – as I’m just NEVER prepared in life.
Enjoyed that? Here is another photo for your enjoyment:
As you can see I am absolutely thrilled at the prospect of having my photograph taken… In reality I’m stopping Daisy from falling to the floor and I’m in agony as she is pinching me!
As you can see, not really an Insta-Mum in the normal definition that I hear them spoke about. I do feel that my Instagram feed fairly accurately reflects real life. I share photographs of days out, talk about the highs and lows of life and I’m real. Me. Most of the time.