Why I Don't Instagram My Food

Last night I got a hankering for quiche. I started making pie crusts and raiding my fridge for any ingredients to complete my "breakfast pies."

It wasn't long before the aroma of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, and green chile* (*it's a New Mexican delicacy that the rest of the world desperately needs) consumed my house. 

The anticipation only grew over the course of the 50 minutes that it took for the filling to set and the crust to adopt the golden brown hue that signified it was ready for consumption.

After pacing around my kitchen and fighting the omnipresent desire to open the oven door to sneak a peek, my excitement nearly boiled over.

Finally it was time to remove my double delectable dishes from the oven. 

Suddenly I had the strong sensation that I needed to document this moment. The same urge I get when my kids do something super cute. I needed to savor it. I reached for my cell phone and began to simultaneously plan and nix all the settings for my impromptu photo shoot of my beautiful food.

I began my best photog impression; playing with lighting and attempting to capture the perfect kitchen counter to quiche ratio. How many times do we do this, before finally surrendering and being grateful that Instgram has filters that can make any picture look truly amazing? (Even a photo of late night breakfast food, thank you Hefe & Mayfair).

After 5 minutes of taking a couple pics and considering a witty caption and/or hashtag, I stopped. Not because Kim Kardashian says Instagramming ones food isn't sexy but because I realized I should actually savor this moment and eat.

Why would I let the wonderful flavors that had melded together perfectly at 350 degrees pass me by? For a few likes? It wasn't like years from now I would look at the framed picture (yes I would print it out and hang it amongst my family photos- just go with it)of this and go, "Oh that was that one night I wore yoga pants and a bathrobe and had a gooooood time consuming dairy products!!!"

Photographs are about capturing a moment preferable something that elicits feeling, not manipulating or faking it for likes but at the very least documenting something that tells a story. What would the story of my quiche tell? What moment in time did I need to preserve? More importantly why was I comfortable with being a spectator rather than a participant in my life?

Two more thoughts and I will promptly get off my soapbox:

1. It's a new year lets try to live in the moment, even when it sucks ( it will save us a lot of money in future therapy and prescription meds).

2. Post the first shot you take to social media, no more 30 different photos of you slightly tilting your head more in the same direction. Don't be afraid to keep it honest and vulnerbale. Since when are those bad things? #live