Image: Andrea De Santis
A Satirical Rejection of Midlife Influencer Culture
The pressure to turn your life into content is everywhere. What if we just … didn’t?
“You’re leaving money on the table!” a friend’s 27-year-old daughter told me recently, sipping cold brew out of a jar that was definitely once a candle. “You could totally build a brand around being a badass middle-aged woman! People would love to watch you struggle to get out of your Spanx!”
Yes, but people also love watching pimple popping videos. Let’s not pretend the bar isn’t set basically underground at this point.
But apparently the fact that I’m over 40, annoyed by loud noises, and occasionally injured by sleeping isn’t simply a stage of life. It’s a marketing opportunity.
I admit it’s tempting. I could monetize the laugh lines. Turn insomnia into inspirational Instagram quotes. Hashtag my hormones. Sell empowerment in the form of a $90 eye cream that makes you “look tired on purpose.”
There’s just one problem: I don’t want to build a personal brand around forgetting where I parked my car at Target.
I just want to find my car.
The Side Hustle Cult
Once upon a simpler time, a side hustle was innocent—walking dogs, selling cupcakes, babysitting. Small things here and there for a little extra cash. Now, women cannot simply exist. They have to franchise themselves.
Welcome to the Side Hustle Cult.
The rules are simple:
Every mundane skill is a neglected fortune.
Every pastime, a pitch deck.
A nap is a Reel about exhaustion.
A love of coffee? A “female-founded artisanal bean subscription box.”
Even your pap smear comes with an affiliate code for wax and wine.
Nothing is sacred. Nothing is private.
And it all belongs in your Etsy shop.
“Everything’s content!” they say. Sure. Everything is content—for therapy. Or with your best friend over wine and tacos. Not for strangers on the internet who can turn your colonoscopy prep into a viral meme.
But the algorithmic message pops up loud and clear: If you’re not monetizing your life, you’re wasting it.
Yes, I’ll Cry Over My Spatula
We’re told that “authenticity sells,” but most “relatable” content is curated chaos.
The truth?
Most of us aren’t redecorating our houses every quarter like we’re running a seasonal Williams Sonoma pop-up. We’re not flying to Bali to find sponsored enlightenment in a papaya. We’re Googling what weird internet acronyms mean and ranting about the fact that they changed the scent of our dish soap.
Meanwhile, influencers are “such a mess” because they forgot to sage their meditation corner before opening a gifted Dyson Airwrap. They stage spilling matcha on $9,000 sofas and hashtagging it #menopausemoment. They caption a breakdown over Whole Foods being out of moon dust magnesium with “just being vulnerable.”
But vulnerability isn’t shot with a DSLR at the golden hour. Vulnerability is finding your keys in the fridge and accepting, with quiet dignity, that this is your life now.
Influencers keep trying though. Because the algorithm rewards women who publicly break down in cinematic slow motion. Not those of us having a silent, spontaneous existential crisis alone when our favorite spatula breaks.
Why? Because the former is profitable.
But real, messy, unbranded life? Irrelevant.
At least on the internet.
I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead—and Also Any Other Chance I Get
Just like the lie that kale is delicious, we’ve been sold the myth that engagement equals empowerment. That aging should be celebrated in the form of carousel posts, comments, and monthly royalties checks. And on some level, sure. The more we champion strong, powerful, complicated women, the better the world will be.
But that visibility has a disclaimer.
It’s a nonstop wave of performative living: wellness routines, productivity hacks, and endless self-improvement plans. If you’re not hustling at 3 a.m., cold plunging, biohacking, or launching a lifestyle brand based on skincare and “only good vibes,” are you even trying?
I don’t need the internet to tell me I’m falling behind.
That’s what the basket of clean but unfolded laundry is for.
We should be able to live without a business plan for our breakfast and boob sweat.
That’s not liberation. It’s performance. Another way to prove we’re still relevant. And just as exhausting.
(Don’t) Do the Hustle
If you want to turn your midlife years into a meno-chic brand about hot flashes and chin hair? I salute you. May your conversions be strong and your engagement rates robust. In fact, I’ll likely give you a follow.
But me? I don’t want another hustle. I have a hard enough time with the hustles I already have. The last thing I want to do is to explain to confused relatives why I’m suddenly taking pictures of my lunch and ending conversations with “link in bio!”
Sometimes a hobby is just a hobby, not a hashtag.
Sometimes age is just a number, not a niche.
Sometimes it’s all just … life.
And refusing to make it a marketing plan isn’t failure.
It’s freedom.
My Midlife Marketing Plan
So, what is my plan?
I’ll cut my hair without calling it “content.” Switch probiotics without announcing it’s part of my “growth journey.” Eat avocado toast without taking a picture and writing a 3,000-word blog post about my spiritual awakening in Trader Joe’s bread aisle.
My wrinkles won’t make me rich.
My brand won’t break the internet.
But at least no one’s watching me try to get out of my Spanx in a time-lapse video set to a Taylor Swift remix.
Because I believe in mystery.
And also avoiding a viral crotch injury.
That—to me—is priceless.
lol I created a blog called Da Spinsta Life. But promptly became bored with it once I was over the trauma of menopause.
The Content Culture – they don’t get that some of us just want to LIVE. FULLY. And not take away from our moments by working hard to record, share, etc.
Just because some of us are hilariously funny and entertaining doesn’t mean we need to share it lol.
This made me laugh — and nod — out loud. I love that you launched Da Spinsta Life and then promptly said bye-bye.
And you’re right: Content Culture is like running on a hamster wheel. I feel like that many days when I am making reels. My least favorite part of running this magazine. Not everything has to be posted, monetized, or turned into a “journey.” Sometimes the most radical thing a woman can do is enjoy her own life without offering it up for consumption.
Being funny doesn’t obligate you to perform. Sometimes the best punchline is keeping it for yourself. So glad you are here! —susan
This is the most hilarious, but accurate depiction of TODAY’s life on the internet which is really sad to some extent. How can I read your writing if I do not belong to Facebook, etc. I do read a limited number blogs by over 60 aged women. I adore your writing, and glad I was introduced to you!!
Hi Teresa,
Well, you just made my day! If you click on my name at the top of the article, it takes you to my bio page and lists all the articles I’ve written here at PROVOKED. I do have a personal following on Facebook and X, but the only place I publish pieces like these are here on PROVOKED. We’re so happy that you found us!
I am far too tired most of the time to bother with the hassle of posting about my life. If you know me, just call me! I’ll tell you ad nauseam about my days! Plus, the meds I’m taking are destroying my word recall. I sit up in bed at 3 a.m. screaming the name of that actor who’s name I could not remember in my conversation at 3 p.m.! I laughed out loud when reading your article, thanks!
I am much too private a person to reveal personal things to the world. I don’t sell my writing at this point. I just hand it out to people who like to read what I write. I find when I publish articles I am surrounded by people who tell me what I should write about and how I should do it. Then it isn’t fun anymore. It isn’t mine anymore. I like to write for fun, not for money. Not everything is about money and not everything should be shared. This is a great article.
I’m so glad this resonated with you. Obviously I write professionally, but I had a humor blog for years in a past life. Everyone told me I needed to monetize the blog, sell ads, market all over the place—which on top of my full-time job—would’ve left exactly zero time to actually write. You shouldn’t dread your hobbies. As you said, some (many) things should just be done for the pure pleasure of the experience.
This speaks to me. As an author, I’m inundated with MUSTS! You must be on Social Media, not one, ALL of them. Talk about your life to connect with your reader. Be real, but cover up the flaws, show you’re honest but use AI to fix your background, images, life.
It is exhausting just to think about it. So this article gives me permission to do only the things I feel comfortable doing. Thank you.
Absolutely. There are so many “musts” thrown at us that we end up feeling like we fail at them all. Do what you can, as best as you can (and, if necessary, outsource the rest). At the end of the day, what brings you peace and joy is all that matters.
I had to read so much of this twice because I couldn’t see through my laughing tears. If anyone knows me well, they know that I could not agree more with this piece! Such a humorous take on the whole mess that is over sharing. Thanks for the laughs.
Yay! I love knowing that my humor hit home. 🙂 Thank you as always for reading.
I’m often told I “need” to turn my hobby into a business or side-hustle because I’m good at it. I’m good at it because I enjoy it and can take my time. Just because I’m good at something does not mean I need to monetize it. I can quietly enjoy it.
There’s something to be said about how pressure to “perform” can actually have the opposite effect. Things are rushed, resented, and pushed out weighted down with expectation. Some things deserve to be just your own, on your own time, at your own pace. But if someone offered to pay me to watch Great British Bake Off, I wouldn’t refuse 😉
This was great – so much truth that I can’t articulate because I’m NOT a writer!!! Ten or more years ago I followed a blog of a couple that turned blogging into business – so far as they had a line at Target. Then, one day, they posted that they are “quitting’ and going back to their old jobs. I was stunned (the living they were making! The brand they were building!) at their boldness and putting their family’s needs and their well-being first. And I was going to miss them.
They made such an impression, obviously, if I’m still thinking about it a decade later. And they still blog – when they want and no comments. I really admire them for knowing when it was “enough” for THEM. Hobbies CAN just be hobbies – that cost, rather than earn, us money 🙂
OMG, yes! I’m with you, Abby. THIS: “Sometimes age is just a number, not a niche.” ❤️
Always love reading your comments, Linda. Glad this hit home for you.