K HOVS UNCUT: Why I’m Going to Stop Editing the ^&%$ Out of Instagram Pics and Why I Won’t Let the Neenah Dump Man Get Me Down

So if you begrudgingly follow me on Snapchat and saw my (literally) 150 second long story today, you know I wasn’t exactly feelin’ myself today.


Given I’m still on the hunt for a job, I am currently working manual labor jobs that need to be done at the apartments my family owns. We’re talking like sub $400/month, “let’s just repaint the ceiling and walls to get rid of the yellow stains from the cigarette smoke”, “is that a dead body..?” type of deal. I’m like, way too fab for this. I destroyed two of my acrylic nails from chucking around musty carpet. Eh mah gawd, ew?!

Life is obviously pretty hard. But anyway, bottom line is that I’ve been nixing makeup and my hair every day because whyyyyy would I want to look like a stripper in the apartments I’m cleaning? I stand on the corner outside the complex with some highlighter, contoured cheekbones, and my brows done- I look like a hard 3 out of 10 on the hotness scale. And let’s just say that around there, 2’s would get picked up no question. Clearly I am in immediate danger everywhere I go.

Long story short, your homie has been looking ratchet AF lately. I avoid Snapchats of my face, I’ve gone MIA on selfies on Insta (perhaps a blessing in disguise <3), and certainly don’t plan on going anywhere but Walmart or the city dump on without trying to look god awfully superficial. So that’s where I went today and what leads me to my 10pm-on-a-Thursday-let’s-do-a-blog-post! I visited the good ole Neenah dump. I was feeling “defiantly ugly” (compared to the not even realistic pics of me on social media) as I said in my own words on Twitter this morning and was mentally daring someone to make a comment on my appearance or shield their child’s eyes from looking upon my lack of hygiene/self care.

Clearly, guys, I’m being a little dramatic here. Definitely even more than “little”. I consider myself #blessed to have what I do have and am fully capable of doing my makeup to emphasize what I like and de-emphasize what I don’t to flaunt the fact that I am indeed a %^& damn woman. But keeping this in mind, when I was at the dump today, that kinda flew all out the window. Self confidence is a fickle thing, my friends.

This morning I woke up with a huge-ass zit and tried to fix it by using a heat compress (normally this works great) but instead proceeded to scald the shit out of my face and create an even more obnoxious mark than before. Before I left the house, I half haphazardly smeared some concealer over it knowing the only thing it was really helping was getting my ass out the door in a timely manner (ask any of my friends about the time I had a barely noticeable sty in my eye sophomore year of college- I refused to leave my dorm and go out on a Friday night because of it).

After I reached the dump, I offered up my driver’s license to this old man who basically sits there all day checking ID’s and telling people where to dump their stuff. I absentmindedly gave it to him as he squinted at it.

“This isn’t you”, he said looking back at me, “…you have…more hair here.”

The fuck I have more hair in that driver’s license.

He was clearly confused at why this $ young thug $ with a butt-ton of acne (just started the Clarisonic and am going through the purge phase) and greasy hair was trying to dump her shit at the Neenah dump with her stolen older sister’s ID. I honestly didn’t know what to tell him, so I just told him, “oh. El-oh-el, yeah….” or something lame like that. Truth be told, I was completely offended by his response to my ID, so I chucked a cinderblock in Bin #2 when I fully knew it belonged in “Concrete”. Oo, burn. That’ll show him.

This led me to go home and mope around for a little while, make some brownies, and watch some makeup tutorials on Youtube. I felt as though I was definitely treated differently by some people depending on if I was wearing makeup or not. I considered myself to look like nothing special without anything on, ugly compared to Candice Swanepoel, beauty gurus on Youtube, and other celebrities and the like. That’s when I put on the breaks and got to where I am tonight- sitting on my bed at home trying to type on my laptop with these freaking talon-like nails on (but they look absolutely fab, dahhling).

Well first off, I told myself, it is more than likely all in my head that I’m treated differently whether I’m wearing makeup or not.







I had been wrapped up in my head about comparing myself to others, thinking extremely superficially (I mean, not even wanting to leave the house because of a crater on my face?!), and worrying about a guy not liking me because I don’t look like those super hot Instagram models with the ripped AF abs and hair down to their ass (definitely extensions, anyway) all of the time.

I have a wonderful family, running water, a ❤ toilet <3, more clothes than a lot of kids could ever ask for, and a shit ton of other things. Yes, I got down to that point. Kind of pathetic, but given today’s social media situation and the fact that barely anyone uploads pics without editing them first (yes, I edit my pics too, I look at my own Instagram and think wow, I wish I really was her- this “Kristin Hovie” idea- I feel like my videos are a much better reflection of myself). Bottom line is that getting too absorbed in that world will never make me or you happy. There’s always going to be someone skinnier, more ripped, tanner, yadda-yadda than you. So why buy into it?

It’s hard not to. The fact that I am writing this post is a clear sign that I’m almost 23 and completely lost my way even after uploading “body image” posts on this very blog. I want to believe that I’m this perfect-but-not-too-perfect girl that appears on Instagram and Facebook, but truth is I am completely not. The only difference between myself on social media six years ago as opposed to now is that I don’t make lame Facebook statuses about getting grounded and I know how to edit and retouch my pictures, and not to hold the camera below my face so I get the double chin going on. Oh, also, puberty I suppose. Shit hit me like a brick wall.


Pre-editing skills and mid-puberty. That’s actually my natural hair color too. What a natural picture. I wonder if this made it on the Christmas card that year…

Yeah, that's right. Hold up the boogie board. Whenever you feel insecure in a pic just grab the nearest boogie board and hold it up in front of your insecurity.

Yeah, that’s right. Hold up the boogie board. Whenever you feel insecure in a pic just grab the nearest boogie board and hold it up in front of your insecurity.

If you’re going to get anything out of this god-awfully long post besides me just bitching about how I don’t look like Kim K. or Gisele Bundchen, I hope that this is a reminder that what you see on social media isn’t often the full story. No one’s skin is as clear and smooth as the pictures and yes, celebs often use apps to thin out their legs (I even paid 99 cents for the app Kylie Jenner uses- 99 FRICKIN’ CENTS WHO AM I). My challenge to myself in the next months is to stop editing pictures unless its redeye or cropping my friends out of pics because I want a pic of how great my ass looked in those jeans that one time (tee-hee!). In turn, I hope to be less of a part of the problem that is becoming the norm. Girls (guys too) shouldn’t have to look at all these pictures and think they are inadequate based based purely on physical features. No one should. Life’s too short to worry about that shit. I’d like to think the world would be a whole less superficial if we concentrated on making ourselves more beautiful on the inside than on the outside- which is as stereotypical as I can get ever, but it definitely reaffirms it for myself typing it here. As a person who dabbles much of her spare time in cosmetics, beauty, fashion, and other such things, it’s never too much hearing this again and again, and I don’t think it’s bad for others like myself to be reminded this as well.

The basic bitch in me says, “YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL”. Believe it even when you don’t because there’s a whole lot more to life then fretting about how crooked your cat-eye is or if your concealer went on patchy. Life is more than skin-deep, grasshoppahs. Some day you won’t be able to count soley on your looks making you happy- that much is true (that’s up for debate but let me have my moment,  I want to drop the mic here).

And lastly, don’t let the man at the Neenah dump tear you down! SOLIDARITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



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