So my two teenager daughters just joined instagram. It’s their first experience with social media and they’ve been busy following people. Being followed. Hearting and smiling at people, being hearted and smiled at…and all the other little things that go along with it.
I decided to put up a Damsel in Depression instagram to go with along with my blog, but most tech stuff is way over my head…so my younger daughter helped me set it up. I was grateful and squeezed her and said, “Thanks! Now I can follow you.”
In her funny little way she said.
“No, mom. No.”
“But why? It’ll be fun,” I replied.
“Because I can’t have a damsel in depression following me. “
“But I’m not a damsel in depression. I’m a dame damn it.”
“Mooo-om. No. Just no. That’s just weird.”
She put up her “Talk-to-the-hand” hand and shook her head no, with a playful gleam in her eye. I laughed at her and said “OK. I won’t follow you.”
Little does she know that I follow her every little move. Her love of all things animal. Her strong sense of self and her great body image. Her archetypal advocate self, always rooting for the underdog. Her gorgeous purple hair and her gigantic saucer eyes. Her wicked quick wit and her seriously contagious giggle.
She’s growning up into an amazing young woman. A woman of whom I am very proud. And I am a damsel in depression. Following. Following her every minute that I can.