Image Credit: Compilation/Jennifer Stahn

“I can’t have fun this week,” I said to a girlfriend, “I’m cleansing."

Lucky for me, I’m not entirely crazy. It’s not like I decided to be Beyoncé and do the Master Cleanse for three months straight — I simply have to take a couple “multi-system cleaning” pills in the morning and eat nothing I want to.

The point of doing this self-depriving detox is not what it once was. Years ago (OK, months) I would partake in cleanses whenever I thought I might be coming up on the opportunity to look good. You know — New Years, date number three, moving to Florida, bumping into that one ex totally-not-on-purpose — but times have changed. I’m doing this cleanse because I’m pretty sure Instagram is going to give me diabetes.

I have a little secret for you — I have never liked donuts. They’re like flimsy bagels that make your teeth hurt and can’t support a tablespoon of cream cheese. Even if they could support cream cheese, they wouldn’t be delicious and that says a lot, considering making lackluster food yummy was the entire point of creaming cheese in the first place — so I assume.

Despite this confession, all I can think about is donuts. Not just on this cleanse, either. I think about donuts when I’m waiting for the bus, when I’m drinking my morning coffee, when I want something to nibble on before bed....

I think about donuts so much that I’ve actually started to eat donuts.

Why? Because they’re adorable and super photogenic.

First, it was cupcakes. Then, it was macaroons. Now, it’s donuts. What is it about sugar whipped into something feminine-looking that makes us want to take a picture?

It’s as if we want to say to the world, look at me! I can eat this and still shop within the skinny sizes at Zara! But, that’s a lie, because ever since I started eating donuts I’ve had to call an embarrassing number of sales assistants over to my dressing room to peel me out of leather and lycra like an overripe banana.

I’m curious as to what kind of example we are setting for women of future generations when the “prettiest” pictures are the ones of pink frosted and confetti-surrounded confections.

I mean, yes, I like plenty of photos that are bowls of kale if they are placed on distressed wooden tables and surrounded by Anthropologie dishtowels and rose-gold cutlery and of course I want to replicate them, but you know what’s easier? Going out and buying a donut.

True, I’m not exactly preaching to the choir here — my desire to keep up with all the Insta-trends goes a bit above the average — but I can’t help it if I like to be continuously inspired by beautiful things. Through this inspiration, I create my own beautiful things — albeit sometimes more successfully than other times.

Recently, though, I have had to re-evaluate my Instagram values.

While I will always do something “for the story,” I have never wanted to do or experience something solely for the picture. Sure, that might be why I put on fake eyelashes, but dammit, it’s not going to be why I spend $2.25 on a donut.

You know what my favourite treat is? Tortilla chips dipped in salsa mixed with cheese whiz and heated up like football game nacho awesome-sauce. You want to know what that would look like in an Instagram picture?

No you don’t — which is the exact reason I keep buying donuts.

“You are the worst kind of person,” my girlfriend responded.

Four hours later she posted a picture of a donut.

— Andria is a twenty-something blogger from Kamloops.

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