Think about your last scroll through Instagram: an array of selfies, at least five different people travelling in Thailand or Australia, cute puppies, make-up you absolutely need, your friends on a night out, food, food, food…
#Foodporn has taken over and, quite frankly, I’m over it. A by-product of our insatiable need to constantly share what we’re doing and how we’re feeling, somewhere along the line posting about what we’re eating became the new norm. To some degree, I do get it. I get that some people might enjoy scrolling through accounts such as @love_food in the same way I like looking at the posts of fashion bloggers, and I get that if you’re trying to be healthier or fancy treating yourself, Instagram can be an amazing outlet for inspiration. However, when it all goes wrong for me, is when I’m scrolling along to find some girl I used to go to sixth form with posting her dodgy chicken korma, or, worse by far, is when one of my own friends starts to think she’s some kind of food blogger.
“Wait! Let me take a picture before you start eating!”
What? I haven’t been waiting twenty minutes for this standard burger to wait another ten while you perfect your angle, brightness, and Clarendon filter. Where once we reached for our knives and forks as soon as our plates hit the table, now we’re reaching for our iPhone cameras. Essentially, documenting our experiences is becoming increasingly more important than actually experiencing them. Food is for eating folks, and while the followers of food bloggers might care about aesthetically pleasing shots of incredible food, your friends probably don’t care about yours. As part of generation social media, when thinking about this article I found myself rationalising this bizarre phenomenon.
“I guess if it’s just a quick Snapchat; or if that milkshake actually looked really impressive; or if I’m really that boring that leaving your phone alone for half an hour while we eat simply isn’t possible.”
But if we prioritise the mark we’re leaving on Instagram over than simply living in the moment, what does that really say about us as a society?
According to science, taking photos of your food may make you enjoy eating it more. One study revealed that, compared to participants who chose not to photograph their food before eating it, individuals who did take a photo perceived the same food to be tastier. One group, the “indulgent” participants, were given red velvet cake; another group, the “healthy” participants, fruit salad. The results showed that those made to take a picture of red velvet cake perceived it to be tastier and more pleasurable than those who did not take a picture of the same cake. There was no perceived difference in taste for those made to photograph or not photograph healthy food. Instead, uploading photos of the healthy food we eat is for our own validation, to have our achievements recognised; the equivalent of if you don’t tell everyone you’re vegan, are you really vegan?
It may be science, but I can’t be the only one thinking this is somewhat ridiculous. Often, the longer you wait to eat your food the more enjoyable it can seem, but spending a fair amount of time capturing the perfect shot seems just as anti-social as scrolling though Facebook. I’m not saying all pictures of food should be wiped from Instagram, nor am I pretending that I don’t send Snapchats of my bog-standard chilli to my boyfriend thinking I’m Gordon Ramsay. However, what I am saying is that when you’re out with your friends and your food arrives, your fork should be the first thing you’re reaching for. No amount of likes is going to make your food hot again once it’s already gone cold.
In the words of my granddad, “I’m on the seafood diet. I see food and I eat it.”
You should too.
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Edited by Susan Akyeampong
Sources:
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https://static1.squarespace.com/static/543d9264e4b04bbe6d9afb1f/t/57ebe6…
Photo Credit: Victor Hanacek