![]() I think I could go to the bathroom mirror and give myself her eye makeup and hair immediately, even though I have little skill with eye makeup and hair. To say nothing of how I know her dancing! I could choreograph the backup dancers for her next tour based on the copious examples she has provided of her moves and style. I think I could assemble outfits for her without looking at her closet or a screen. As when I was a child and could play Tetris in my head without looking at the game itself, I know a good number of Britney Spears’ shirts, shorts, and sports bras from various posts by heart. I get worked up about things online and fall into my phone, my body floating in a room, unable to participate meaningfully in conversation. There is undoubtedly additional sex I might have had without Britney Spears’ Instagram account, and possibly children.īut this absence can happen during the day, too. He has since given up, coming to bed with an iPad and headphones on, anticipating my retreat into my phone. He used to grumble that I wouldn’t watch enough shows, that he wanted to share them with me. My husband holds these conversations with me but I have to believe he holds resentment or, at minimum, concern. I am no longer able to count the number of times I have engaged in an extended form of show-and-tell with my husband about what is happening on Britney Spears’ Instagram account, reading lines from articles about her Instagram account, and showing him videos or photographs from Britney Spears’ Instagram account or other celebrities responding (or not responding) to Britney Spears’ Instagram account. But she is an adult making her own choices and I respect that.) ![]() (Based upon my reading as well as the language directly in Britney Spears’ posts, I fear she is also reading heaping quantities of this gunk - and on a human level, I don’t want her to be exposed to those assholes. I scroll through the thing itself as well as the think pieces and gossip columns about Britney Spears’ Instagram account at night in bed, my eyes straining to accommodate blue light that interferes with my ability to sleep correctly. I read the comments at a deep level, engaging with the tossed barbs and expressions of encouragement from no-name total strangers, clicking further to review the responses to the comments and assess the number of likes. I check it often, and recheck it, reviewing previous posts in light of new posts. My relationship with Britney Spears’ Instagram is intensely problematic. You can now understand where I sit in the matrix of Britney Spears consumers online and move along to the real issue. I will disclose my desire for her to express herself as she pleases, pursue the hobbies that give her joy, experience comfort and thrill in her body, and live her best life, whatever that means for her. Because I think you will stop reading if I don’t conform to the standard Britney essay format, I will state my genuine thrill she is no longer in the captivity of her father’s conservatorship. My take on Britney is largely irrelevant, as is yours. They are expressions of tribalism and one’s postured beliefs about a diverse slate of topics including gender, aging, madness, sexuality, celebrity cat fights, tiny furniture, ASMR, body image, working out, photo filters, nudes, controlling parents, fertility, oversharing, marriage, older women and younger men, roses, fan fiction, celebrity, captivity, wealth, the ’90s, and disability, to name a few, projected onto Britney. Almost all of the essays about Britney the woman are not about Britney the woman. I repeat, for emphasis: This is not an essay about Britney the woman. This is an essay about my addiction to Britney Spears’ Instagram account and what it means about me. ![]() ![]() ![]() This does not fit comfortably with most of them, but in this time of Hive Zuckerberg/Musk Brain and the edict to not conform using the exact appropriate non-conformist language, upon risk of cancellation by one’s algorithmically curated peers, I do not dare suggest I have original thoughts. So many things have been written about Britney Spears’ Instagram account. It’s entirely very stupid, but it’s a real issue in my life, and I am overdue in holding myself accountable for it: my relationship with Britney Spears’ Instagram account. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |