I am sitting on the grassy knoll above the beach drinking my coffee and watching the world go by as it unfolds before me. A fit, confident-looking blonde in a black bikini strolls along the water's edge. She's tanned and well-groomed, and even on the beach, her hair is in an effortless looking but perfectly coiffed chignon. I make assumptions about the kind of life she lives and imagine that she is self-possessed and unfazed by what others think of her. Then my projection is abruptly halted. She sits at the end of the beach and begins to take photos. Of the outlook, I think at first, but then, seeing her leaning back at an awkward angle, I realise she's taking hot dog leg shots.

There's nothing poised about hot dog leg shots (and hey, plenty of us are guilty of the old hot dog leg shot!). I look away and to her right, is a girl with long, dark blow-dried hair, a full face of make-up and a gold bikini. She performs various states of pout while looking back at the camera and trying to keep her windblown hair out of her eyes and mouth. I find myself involuntarily wincing. Again, I look away and become aware that it's everywhere. Selfie sticks, selfie pouts, selfie hot dog legs, serious selfies, smiling selfies. To be exact – search #selfie on Instagram and you'll get more than 210 million results, 12 million for #selfies and 1 million for #selfiestick.

I remember sitting behind an attractive couple at Bali's Potato Head bar about a year ago. They did not speak to each other or smile until the phone's camera was switched on and instantly they would transform, kissing and cuddling and giggling and performing. And then return to a rather sullen looking silence as they checked to see if they got the perfect picture. In Bondi, such pretense is inescapable. But, it does not make me worry about humanity and it is no indictment. Quite the opposite. The spectacle is so utterly ridiculous it is impossible to take seriously. When we see the end product on social media it is easy to fall for the illusion. It is easy to project an unreality onto a person.

Social media envy can make us feel like everyone else's lives are flawless and they don't feel feelings apart from ecstatic and really ecstatic. "If it is used as a way to size up one's own accomplishments against others, it can have a negative effect," Professor Margaret Duffy, of Missouri University, said earlier this year after she authored a paper on the subject. "If Facebook is used to see how well an acquaintance is doing financially or how happy an old friend is in his relationship – things that cause envy among users – use of the site can lead to feelings of depression." British "It" girl Alexa Chung recently confirmed that it's all perfectly unreal: "No one is as happy as they seem on Instagram. Even friends of mine. I'll say, 'Wow, that looked amazing!' and they'll be like, 'Nah, it wasn't.' I tell them, 'You need to stop putting that stuff up because it looks perfect.'

"But then Instagram would be awful if it was reality, wouldn't it? 'Here are my spaghetti hoops and me crying over EastEnders.'" In the flesh, the illusion falls away; for me as for all of us. It's not one-dimensional and it is endearingly self-conscious. In the great effort to capture the enviable-looking life, we reveal our vanity, yes. But, more than this, we reveal our insecurity and desire for approval and connection. And in this reality removed from the filter, we reveal our fragile, delightfully flawed humanity.