Hey Kaleigh!

Tag: instagram

  • On The Clean Girl Aesthetic

    Image by Edward Berthelot

    I used to think I was too plain to fit into the “clean girl aesthetic.” That my acne prone skin needed to clear up. That I needed to trade something inside of me. That I would never be “clean” enough.

    But I shouldn’t have kept my guard up. Not over a Tiktok trend. You don’t need approval to feel stylish. You are perfect. You are not some fad. You are already enough. And somehow, being squeaky clean feels suspicious. Because trends change. Not just what looks good, but even the peace in what feels good.

    And if I’m honest, I sometimes find myself growing captivated with this idea that I need to look the proper part. And once I look better, things will fall into place like some sort of denouement. Something colossal and revolutionary. Taylor Swift’s hugest glitter gel pen hits play as my soundtrack.

    A beautiful vibe. But real life is messier than this. The clean girl aesthetic is a cool foundation only if you’ve already found peace in what feels good to you.

    Being a “clean girl” shouldn’t feel unattainable. Following trends is fun. Trying new things feels freeing. Sometimes playing along is the best way to get to know yourself.

    I envision being “clean” feels exciting. But exciting is full of drama. It’s a bit bizarre in a way, that you are freaky if you dry your hair with a Revlon rather than a Dyson. Things feel oddly ordinary. We are caught between wanting authenticity and getting held hostage by it.

    Yet I love the clean girl aesthetic. My skincare routine is the highlight of my day. I just don’t know if performing polish is as satisfying as it looks.

    But what I do know is this: silly little trends make me happy.

    And I hope there’s enough happiness for everyone. Enough room for confidence and uncertainty. Enough space for us all to be beautiful in our own ways.

    Because maybe I’m not “clean girl” enough. But I am whole. And I have been whole all along.

  • Someday, But Not Today

    Image from iStock

    To be totally honest, I don’t think I’ve ever been absolutely happy with myself. Each version of me feels unworthy until I undoubtedly morph into someone new. Everything is temporary after all. Maybe one day, I will appreciate my present self. But for now, I long for the Kaleighs of the past while wishing I could become someone new.

    Eventually, everything will finally feel perfectly aligned. I will wake up and stop cringing at old photos. Stop nitpicking my face in the mirror. Stop obsessing over what’s missing and start becoming proud of what is there. I will be proud, not just of what I have survived so far, but of who I have become.

    But right now? I scroll through my camera roll memories like I’m stalking the Instagram account of someone cooler. I glamorize the versions of me that once felt totally awkward and just as unsure as I feel about myself today. I’m convinced that I used to glow brighter, laugh louder, and love harder even though I remember crying in the bathroom at that party and leaving nights out with anxious pits in my stomach.

    The present never feels like enough until it becomes the past.

    Maybe the work isn’t in becoming something better. Maybe it’s in sitting still and realizing that this version of me deserves love too. Not someday when I’ve healed and gotten hotter. Now.

  • Becoming ‘That Girl’ Online Versus Becoming Myself in Real Life

    I know how the algorithm wants me to live. 

    Wake up early, fall asleep with lemon water waiting on my nightstand. Keep an organized journal in perfect handwriting. Sunrise spilling over an immaculately made bed. A matcha latte with perfectly frothed oat milk. Pilates, skincare, soft lighting, neutral tones, color palettes. Becoming that girl.

    Online, that girl feels attainable. You just need the right filters, the right angles, and the right aesthetic props at hand. The digital version of myself can look composed, candid, balanced – even if the photo took 15 tries and I shoved a pile of unfolded clothes out of the frame.

    But real life isn’t nearly as polished.

    Like I wrote in my piece about romanticizing my skincare routine, I’m learning that true self-care isn’t about creating the perfect version of myself – it’s about learning to sit with who I really am.

    In real life, I am still learning how to find myself – and that version is far less attractive.

    Sometimes, becoming myself means sleeping through the alarm sometimes. It means beginning the day with coffee before gratitude journaling because as a teacher I don’t have much time and I can’t think straight without caffeine. It is being ambitious despite feeling anxious, purposeful but also overwhelmed, calculated but also unorganized. It means admitting that balance is not always possible – that sometimes I don’t meditate, and sometimes my skincare routine is just splashing water on my face before bed.

    Online, self love can feel like a performance. Offline, it feels like a process.

    Becoming that girl online is about crafting perfection. Becoming myself in real life is about learning to sit with the imperfections.

    I have spent a lot of time chasing the Kaleigh that looks decent on camera. But recently, I have been trying to find the Kaleigh who feels secure when no one is watching. The Kaleigh who makes time for her friends, even if she doesn’t have a lot of them. The Kaleigh who prioritizes joy, and lets herself rest without guilt. The Kaleigh who knows that not every season needs to be a glow-up.

    I am learning that the most authentic kind of self-improvement doesn’t have to come with a 24-carat aesthetic. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s honest but inconsistent. Sometimes it’s plainly deciding to be a little bit more transparent with myself than I was yesterday.

    Because becoming that girl may get me likes. But becoming myself is what’s bringing me peace.

  • Why Writing Instagram Captions Feels Like Therapy

    There’s something oddly cathartic about crafting the perfect Instagram caption. I am not talking about the cheeky “in my main character era” kind (although I love a good T.S. innuendo). I mean the kind where you sit with an emotion, wrestle it into a few words, and manage to make it sparkle.

    This is not just wordplay, it is a digital diary.

    When I scroll through my camera roll, I am not just looking for my finest angle. I’m searching for a moment that meant something, even if the memory was as short as the camera flash. The gelato that led me to discover a cherry allergy. The bartender I swore looked like Jason Kelce. The photo where my face is asymmetrical and my smile is off-center, but unmistakably real. And when I sit down trying to caption those photos, my intention is more than racking up likes — I’m trying to convey my feelings in a sentence or two.

    A picture is worth a thousand words. But none of my followers are going to read all that. Maybe it’s the writer in me. Or maybe it’s the part of me that wants to be seen. Instagram captions let us share just enough. We can be witty, honest, arrogant, sentimental — sometimes all at once. It’s a space to reclaim control over our stories, in a feed that is often too curated by an algorithm to be anything but real.

    There is also a freedom in knowing it’s not that serious…and yet, sometimes it is. A caption can be a subtle confession delivered through lowercase letters. A double entendre that landed when you felt like you weren’t funny anymore. A quote that you needed to read, even if you had to write it yourself first.

    So yes, caption writing is sometimes a catharsis. It is the digital version of your diary hung in a gallery with your friends, family, and fans. And while I won’t downplay actual therapy for a Notes app draft, I will leave you with this: when the words finally land, and your post goes public, it does feel like a little exhale.

    And that has to count for something.