As a ‘blogger’ there is a certain degree of having to be bold and confident and extrovert. Any one who knows me well knows that I’m actually rather awkward and shy when I first meet people and one of my favourite things to do is die of shame at every given opportunity and I just wish I could have a pinch of brazeness.
Once I get to know people there is literally no stopping me, I’m silly and loud and potty mouthed and crass, but until I trust you I find it hard to say hello. I’ll be the one sitting in a meeting practicing over and over what to say and then still mess it up when I gets to my turn to introduce myself. Urging myself to walk into a party alone is just about as bad as someone promising me they are ordering dessert and then saying they’re too full. I just struggle to not make a twat of myself and once I know people I can laugh about it, where as when people don’t know me they just think I’m useless.
Yesterday the mother and I went to London and wanted a snack before going to watch Wicked. I was having a lil browse on goggle of where we could go and then suddenly clicked about how close Peggy Porschen’s was with all the beautiful flowers, picture perfect pink walls and very aesthetically pleasing cakes.
We rocked up and I automatically felt overwhelmed, yes stunning it was, but my oh my so crowded. I felt like I had been cheated on almost. All these girls taking perfect Instagram shots and it wasn’t really perfect at all.
We were ushered into a queue in which we were told it was a 15-20 min wait for cake and even longer if you want to sit outside. Outside? Scuzzy, it’s less than 15 degrees outside why would I want to sit outside? And then I realised it’s so people to get their perfect Instagram shot.
The whole time we waited swarms of people brazenly walked up to the front door and did their perfectly perfected sassy little poses, whilst everyone was standing there watching. People came in and out of the door and interrupted people’s flow and staff seemed well and truly over all of the hype.
I desperately wanted to get a pic just to get one and tick something off the blogger checklist, but although I urged every ounce of my being to be brave I just couldn’t do it. I felt awkward enough just trying to take a picture of the empty doorway for gods sake.
Being an introverted blogger is a bloody hard gig. Especially when people see the part of you that is larger than life.
I learnt a lot yesterday, I learnt that if I want to keep trying to succeed with this blogging malarky I will have to work harder. To find my own slices of paradise where 100’s of people aren’t swarming around so I can take my own pictures and carve my own path.
I learnt that confidence is something I will always have to work on and will probably never come naturally to me. Being an extrovert isn’t the same as being confident and most of the time it’s the whole reason why they are an extrovert, because they aren’t confident.
I learnt that I will always care too much about what people think.
I learnt that I will often feel like a twat bag and that people are staring at me or that I am being judged by other people even though they probably don’t care.
I learnt that I need to do me rather than following the herd, I’m not fashun, I like clashing prints and I like cake far too much to order 1 slice between 3 gals and then only take pictures of it and not eat any of it.
I want to be the one chasing the stars and not looking behind me and guess what? after strolling down some cute little streets I found my very own ‘blogger spot’.
I won’t be going back to PP, the cake was pretty dreamy and look ahhhmazing. The service was very underwhelming, it was over priced and the toilets were dingy as fuck. The flowers looked pretty and the window displays were cutesy but it’s just a bit too fake for me.