I step out onto my driveway and feel the frigid air hit my face and crawl up my body, making me shiver. I smell the faint aroma of hot chocolate mixed with car exhaust and hear the sound of Christmas carols coming from the neighbour’s house. I long for the warmth of my home, to be able to be sipping hot chocolate by the fire.  My feet are already starting to freeze with only my white Adidas shoes to keep them warm. I feel the goose bumps start to form on my arms and legs, as I’m only wearing a t-shirt and leggings, but brush it off, knowing that it will all be worth it.  I take a big breath in and keep on walking.  I look at myself in my phone camera, making sure everything is perfect, my hair, my makeup, and my outfit. I need to look amazing.

I trudge down the snow-covered driveway, across the neighbour’s lawn, the dead leaves crunching underneath my feet. I finally arrive at the park, every step, colder than the next. I sit down on frost-covered bench and my backside tingles as the frost seeps into my leggings. I take out my Rose Gold iPhone 6S Plus, and slide up, to reveal the camera. I look at myself one last time, practicing all of the different faces I will make. The no teeth showing smile? No. Tongue out? No. Winky face? No. Mysterious face? No. I finally settle on the “classic smile”. I open my eyes wide, raise my perfectly done eyebrows just a bit, and smile. “Click” I immediately check my camera roll and gasp. This is a horrendous photo! I take it again, “click”, bad again. “Click”, “click, “click, “click”, this goes on for another twenty minutes until I'm finally satisfied. I get up, brush off the snow on my bottom and walk home.

As I enter my house, a breeze of warm air hits me, and I sigh with relief. My dog, Sadie, comes bounding up to me, tail wagging. I ignore her, and head up to my room. I collapse onto my bed and feel my fuzzy covers against my cold skin. I pull out my phone and open up my most used app, “Facetune”. I erase all of my blemishes, dark circles, and imperfections. Next, “VSCO Cam”, here, I adjust the lighting, so it compliments my face and add a nice but subtle filter. I look at the photo, and I’m not satisfied, I look too real. I pop back onto “Facetune”, smooth out my face and make my eyes look a bit bigger and I’m now happy.

What should the caption be? I think to myself. How about ;)? No, that’s just weird. Maybe some emojis? No, that’s too “classic” Oh! I got it, “I love my self(i.e.,)” Everyone will love that.

“Honey! Your father and I are heading out to the neighbour's Christmas party, are you sure you don’t want to come?” my mom yells. 

I ignore her and quickly open Snapchat, take a picture of myself that says, “Snap to be tagged in Insta!” and add it to my story. I get ten Snapchats in a matter of seconds, so I know it’s finally time to post. I open up Instagram, double check to make sure my photo matches my theme, caption it, tag all of my friends, and post. I hear the loud slam of the wooden door as it shuts.

Two minutes pass, and I’ve only received thirty likes, so I take it down.  I wait five minutes and repost. This time, my post has received forty likes and thirty-nine comments. “Who is that one person who liked but didn’t comment?” I brush it off and look again to see that it has increased to one hundred likes. A sense of pride rushes over me, and I smile. People like me and think I’m pretty, and I have one hundred and fifty comments to prove it.
I walk down the creaky stairs, phone in hand and sense the emptiness of the house. Right, Mom and Dad are at the neighbour’s Christmas party that I refused to attend. I peek out of the window, and can practically see the laughter and happiness radiating off of their beautifully decorated home. Maybe I should have gone over, but no, this was worth it. I got a pretty photo, with hundreds of likes and comments, and I feel good about myself. Or do I?