Instagram Influencer Shocked To Discover She Influences No One
I have over two million followers, so I just assumed people were hanging on my every word.
By Chuck Miller
“One afternoon about a quarter after two I realized I was late with my 2 p.m. selfie. I hadn’t posted anything since my always popular noon healthy lunch shot—a plate of nothing but lettuce, and of course my tits hanging over the plate.
“Naturally, I feared my loyal followers would begin scattering elsewhere if I didn’t update them soon. I had the perfect shot picked out to accompany my important public service message about saving the beached manatees. Or is it turtles? Or maybe whales? It’s easy to confuse those amphibians.
“Anyway, I thought a shot of me rolling around helplessly in the sand and surf in a barely there string bikini would be the perfect way to really show how vulnerable these poor animals are. Maybe I was in a rush because I was so far behind schedule, or maybe it was the three martinis I guzzled with my lettuce—who knows—but instead of the bikini photo, I somehow attached a photo of one of those creepy creatures. I don’t even know how that got on my phone! It was so fat and gross and clearly in need of a three-day juice cleanse.
“I have over two million followers, so I just assumed people were hanging on my every word. Shockingly, this post was hardly hearted at all,” explained the perplexed tramp. “I was so dejected!
“Could it really be that people don’t care that much about what I have to say, and they’re just looking at my ass? I had to know.
“So for the 6 p.m. dinner post, I did something really radical. I shared a photo of dinner—three string beans, tofu, and a radish—while omitting the customary body-hugging cocktail dress shot that usually accompanies it.
“You’ll never guess… … …that post was almost completely ignored also! It was as if no one cared about my mindfulness or healthy living tips. There I sat, my confidence washed away in a sea of self-doubt and pity, faced with the possibility of a dismal future where sponsors might not pay for me to continually cruise the world’s most exotic beaches. I might even be forced to get a job and vacation somewhere awful like Myrtle Beach.
“Confused, I scrolled my Insta-feed, desperately trying to figure out what riveting advice I might try next to win back the trust of my subjects. Surely I hadn’t really been abandoned by a fickle public. I still had so much to say about makeup and eating disorders and fashion designers. How could I get them to come back and listen?
“That’s when I stumbled across this writer guy’s post about the scourge of social media. I don’t know what a scourge is, but he seemed like he really needed a hug and maybe a blowjob too. Poor guy had hardly any likes at all. My toenails alone get more than he had, especially when I use the bright red polish. I almost hearted his post out of pity, but I knew that would have been even more damaging to my reputation than the obese manatees.
“I learned a valuable lesson from that depressing writer. When I scheduled my evening positive vibes only post, I knew just how to drive away any hint of negativity—thigh highs and garters of course! I was back to my old influential self in no time, spreading charm and wisdom to my adoring horde of fans, along with quite a bit of skin for good measure.”