“Why Don’t I Look Like That, Cat?”

On filters, faces, and trying to help kids feel real in a world that isn’t.

A girl holding a tablet, immersed in exploring virtual photo filters and styles.

It came through as a text...

“Need backup. She just asked me why she doesn’t look like the influencer doing her skincare routine. She's 10 and crying. Send help.”

This is how my friend opens most parenting chats, with humour, mild panic, and at least one child melting quietly in the background.

The influencer in question? Early twenties, glowing skin, flawless jawline, luminous eyeballs; basically, the holy trinity of “that girl” energy.

Also? Heavily filtered. Fully lit. Possibly surgically enhanced.

Her daughter didn’t know that. She just knew that her own skin didn’t look the same.

And her face, freshly washed and a bit pink from brushing her teeth, didn’t feel enough.

“She just kept asking why she didn’t look like that,” my friend said.

“And I didn’t know what to say without making it worse.”

And I felt it. That ache. That ugh, this wasn’t supposed to start so early feeling.

Because kids aren’t just looking at other people filtered.

They’re seeing themselves filtered.

Daily. Silky smooth. Brightened. Fun-house perfected.

Then we hand them a class photo and wonder why they cringe.

We laughed a bit when my friend told me. The kind of laugh that hides the ache. Because we’ve all felt it. That moment of looking at someone else, someone curated, someone bathed in ring light and wondering why your face didn’t get the memo.

But this isn’t just our awkward adolescence showing up again.

This is different.

Because now, kids grow up seeing themselves filtered too.

Snapchat puppy faces. TikTok glow-ups. Even video calls with soft focus.

They’re not just seeing “perfect”; they’re seeing better versions of themselves... every day.

And then we hand them a school photo envelope and wonder why they look disappointed.

TRY THIS

If this hits a little close to home, here are a few things I’ve seen help:

• Talk about the tech. Show them what filters do. Literally switch one on and off. Let them see the artifice.

• Find joy in real faces. Point out freckles, gappy teeth, silly hair. Not as flaws. As features. As personality. As them.

• Let them feel seen unfiltered. Say “you look beautiful” when they’ve just woken up or when they’re covered in dirt. Especially then.

It’s not about banning the filters.

It’s about helping them remember they’re more than their image.

That their face, the actual one, is not the problem.

The world’s just gotten blurry and they’re still learning how to focus.