Are you jealous of influencers? Great, they did their job
From an ex-influencer herself
A couple of days ago, I was doing one last little scroll on TikTok before putting my phone down for the night when this video popped up on my feed:
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In it, a girl sips an iced matcha and talks about how exhausted she is by NYC influencers, the ‘basic ass skinny and pretty but boring bitches who all wear the same clothes, and jewelry…They all get panic attacks and shop at Revolve.”
The video is darkly funny and hits on so many unspoken truths we’re all feeling. It blew up, now sitting at 135K views, sparking countless conversations—including the one below.
Here, the music loops while a simple message drives home the creator’s frustration: for some girls, “work” means grabbing matcha, going to Pilates, walking their dog, unboxing designer PR, filming a GRWM, and heading to a fancy brand dinner for a fat paycheck.
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This one admittedly struck a nerve. I think it highlights a broader misunderstanding of influencers and the work that goes into it. It hit me in a way I couldn’t ignore, so I made a video response.
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Here’s what I want people to take away from this moment and the larger trend it represents.
Maybe you’re feeling exhausted by influencers—the endless content, the curated perfection, the sense that everything is being sold to you (it is). Maybe you’re feeling envious, wondering why some people seem to make a living by being a hot girl (they do). Or maybe you feel like it’s not a “real job” at all, that it lacks substance or effort (it is a real job).
In any case, I want to break this down and offer some perspective. Because while it’s easy to dismiss, there’s more to the conversation than meets the eye.
Truth #1: Filming yourself going out for matcha, doing pilates, and getting free stuff does not make for a beautiful, rich, and happy life if your mind ain’t right.
I know it’s tempting to think that the skinny Alo-clad botox’d bitch going to pilates every day then getting her lip flipped in the afternoon has a wonderful life.
I even sometimes look back at my life from 2016-2019, my peak influencing years, and think about how good I had it. I had a six-figure income, any free product I wanted, hundreds of thousands of loyal followers who watched my every move and would bat for me at the cross. Podcast and book deals thrown at me. Life was good!
But I was so lost. I couldn’t enjoy any of it. I was seeking happiness and fulfillment in all the wrong places; I took all that amazing stuff for granted. I think it’s important to remember that external success or physical goods does not automatically equal inner peace. Remember when Kate Spade ended her life, followed swiftly by Anthony Bourdain?
Success ≠ happiness.
Fame ≠ a peaceful heart.
Free stuff ≠ fulfillment.
If anything, these outward markers of success can make someone who’s struggling feel even worse. You think, I have all these amazing things. My life looks beautiful from the outside. But inside, it doesn’t match. I feel terrible about myself.
It’s a painful disconnect—believing that achieving certain milestones or accumulating status symbols will bring fulfillment, only to realize they don’t. Instead of feeling accomplished, you’re left wondering, I thought I wanted this. But now that I have it, I feel empty and afraid because it’s not working like I thought it would.
You have no idea how that influencer’s inner world is looking, what her self-talk is like, or if she is truly happy. All your seeing is the outside. But damn, does that outside life look good. I get it!
Truth #2: Relatability doesn’t sell. Envy, emulation, and aspiration does.
Given this truth, the influencers are doing their job exactly right.
You aren’t supposed to relate to them. What would that sell?
Most people viewing the influencer’s content are stuck at a 9-5 they hate, scrolling on TikTok until they can take a break from work to go get lunch before heading back to their desk. Dark.
When will people realize an ifluencer’s job is to make you want what they have? They do that by sharing their out-of-reach life, the one you, the viewer, think is perfect.
So you buy the pilates weights, the bracelets, the serum they use.
So you can feel a little bit like them.
Just a little bit.
It always bothers me when people say how “unrelatable” or “out of touch” influencers are. Yes, of course they are out of touch and unrelatable. Their job is to entertain you, and it requires a level of delusion and tunnel-vision that makes them good at their job.
When Emma Chamberlain started hosting events like the Met Gala, I would read comments under her videos saying how she was no longer relatable. It made me fume with anger. Not everyone needs to be relatable. Who told you that? Get off your high horse of relatability! It’s 2025!
Truth #3: It is not an “easy job”.
Let the eye rolls come for me! But if influencing were an easy job, everyone would do it. There is so much sacrifice that comes with the job.
No privacy!
Social climbing friends!
Addiction to all your devices!
Constant pressure to perform, build on momentum, be “on”.
To stay relevant, keep up with trends, and be both aspirational yet just relatable enough—“Hey guys, do you wake up puffy in the morning TOO?”
It’s living with the knowledge that your income is tied to a tech company that could go dark overnight, to everchanging algorithms, brand partnerships, and an audience that can turn on you in an instant. It’s working without a safety net of traditional media jobs—no body guards, no PR crisis team, no management in the beginning.
And then there’s the mental toll. The scrutiny, the opinions, the judgment. You can be wildly successful and still feel unfulfilled. You can be adored and still feel deeply alone. Because when your life is your brand, it can be hard to tell where the job ends and you begin.
It can be such a lonely job.
“It’s loneliest at the top.” I remember someone commenting that on my page one day.
I’ll never forget it. It scared the shit out of me because I knew they were right. It was just a reandom man who had written that below of photo I’d posted of me meditating.
I had given up everything beautiful in my life for my career—and I was about to lose that, too. And a follower saw it before I could admit it to myself.
I know all this because I lived it.
Below, for paid subscribers only, I’m sharing three specific Instagram posts from my influencer years—real receipts—along with the unfiltered truth behind them. What I showed vs. what I was really feeling. What I wanted people to believe vs. what was unraveling behind the scenes.
When I took myself on a fabulous European vacation and titled it, #LeePraylove
