
The notification popped up on my phone, another Instagram post from Grandma Rose. I sighed, tapping on the icon. There she was, her face smoothed and airbrushed beyond recognition, a pair of oversized, cartoonish sunglasses perched on her nose. A cascade of digital sparkles rained down around her. The caption read, “Feeling my vibe! #OOTD #YOLO #GrandmaGoals.”
My stomach churned. At first, it had been a novelty, a quirky, endearing quirk of my 81-year-old grandmother. But now, weeks into her social media blitz, it was bordering on unbearable.
It had started innocently enough. She’d asked me to help her set up an Instagram account, intrigued by the photos I’d shown her of my travels and friends. I’d thought it was a sweet way for her to stay connected with the family, a digital scrapbook of sorts.
But Grandma Rose had taken to Instagram like a fish to water, or rather, like a teenager to a viral trend. She’d discovered the world of filters, the power of hashtags, and the allure of online validation. Suddenly, she was posting multiple times a day, each photo more heavily filtered than the last.
The captions were a whole other level of cringe. She’d pepper them with slang I barely understood, phrases like “slay,” “lit,” and “no cap.” She’d even started using emojis, a barrage of hearts, stars, and laughing faces that seemed to clash with her gentle, grandmotherly image.
The pinnacle of my mortification came when she asked me, with wide, earnest eyes, how to do a “get ready with me” video. “You know, darling,” she’d said, her voice brimming with excitement, “like those lovely young ladies on the internet. I want to show everyone my makeup routine!”
I’d choked on my coffee. My makeup routine consisted of moisturizer and a swipe of mascara. Grandma Rose’s “makeup routine” involved a dusting of powder and a dab of lipstick.
The worst part was, my entire family was egging her on. They’d shower her with likes and comments, calling her “amazing,” “inspiring,” and “a social media queen.” They were completely oblivious to my growing dread.
I was trapped in a vortex of secondhand embarrassment. What if my friends saw these posts? What if my coworkers stumbled upon her profile? I could already imagine the whispers, the snickers, the awkward attempts at polite conversation.
I found myself avoiding family gatherings, dreading the inevitable discussions about Grandma Rose’s latest post. I’d scroll through my feed, wincing at each new notification, my finger hovering over the “unfollow” button, a button I couldn’t bring myself to press.
One evening, I found myself sitting across from my mom, the glow of her phone illuminating her face as she scrolled through Grandma Rose’s profile. “Isn’t she just the cutest?” she gushed, showing me a photo of Grandma Rose with a digital halo and angel wings.
“Mom,” I said, my voice strained, “don’t you think this is… a little much?”
My mom looked at me, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? She’s having fun. She’s expressing herself.”
“But it’s not her,” I argued. “It’s like she’s trying to be someone else.”
“She’s adapting, darling,” my mom said, her voice gentle. “She’s embracing technology. She’s living her best life.”
I knew I wasn’t going to win this argument. My family, in their well-meaning attempt to support Grandma Rose, were completely blind to the awkwardness of the situation.
I decided to try a different approach. The next time Grandma Rose asked me for help with her Instagram, I sat down with her and gently explained the concept of “authenticity.” I showed her photos of herself, unfiltered and unedited, her smile genuine, her eyes sparkling with wisdom.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are, Grandma,” I said, my voice sincere. “You don’t need filters or slang to be amazing.”
She looked at the photos, her eyes softening. “Do you really think so, darling?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“Absolutely,” I said, squeezing her hand.
Grandma Rose didn’t stop posting, but she did tone it down. The filters became less intense, the captions more genuine. She even started sharing stories from her life, anecdotes that were both heartwarming and hilarious.
And slowly, I began to appreciate her online presence. I realized that it wasn’t about trying to be an influencer; it was about Grandma Rose finding her own way to connect with the world, to express her joy, to simply be herself. And in the end, that was more than enough.
Joy Behar Calls Dolly Parton’s Jolene Anti-Feminist And Fans Come Unglued
There doesn’t seem to be a shortage of viewpoints these days, and people are willing to argue almost anything. The View, where the hosts explore some of the most fascinating subjects, is one venue where these discussions frequently take place.

Joy Behar, one of The View’s members, recently sparked a heated discussion by questioning the renowned country song “Jolene” by Dolly Parton, implying that it might have anti-feminist connotations.
Behar even went so far as to declare that Beyoncé’s more current rendition of “Jolene” was better. People’s attention is being drawn to the intense conversation that has been ignited by this comment.

Joy Behar is not afraid to voice her opinions, and she made sure the show’s producer knew that she preferred Beyoncé’s performance of “Jolene.” Behar claims that Dolly Parton’s rendition of the song displays possessiveness and insecurity, especially when Parton is pleading with the mistress not to take her lover.

This notion, according to Behar, is antifeminist because it suggests that women should be worried that their men might cheat on them because they are attracted to other women. She feels that it undercuts women’s empowerment.
However, Beyoncé’s rendition of “Jolene,” known as “Cowboy Carter,” presents an alternative viewpoint. In the song, Beyoncé issues a warning to the other person, telling them to avoid her connection, instead of pleading with them.

Naturally, a lot of people—including country music icon Reba McEntire—had comments about the matter. McEntire just chuckled when asked about Joy Behar’s remark and complimented Beyoncé on her contributions to the country music genre.
Behar praises Beyoncé’s performance of “Jolene” for its strong message, but she still maintains that Dolly Parton’s song is anti-feminist. Behar claims that Beyoncé’s rendition shows a self-assured lady who is prepared to face the difficulties in her relationship head-on.
Fascinatingly, Dolly Parton appears to value Beyoncé’s rendition of the song, which adds another dimension to this continuing discussion.
As long as people are willing to talk about it, this argument will undoubtedly continue. Undoubtedly, Joy Behar evoked powerful feelings, and not everyone finds it amusing.

Leave a Reply