On Why I'll Never Be A Cool Blogger

To be read with a sense of humor. :)

I was having a discussion with a new acquaintance, and as those things go, the topic of employment came up. I mentioned I'm a nanny and a beauty blogger. And once I explained what a blogger is, specifically a beauty one, I got asked about the name of my blog.

"Elle Sees...I've never heard of it."

To which I awkwardly blurted out, "It's because I'm not cool."

Let me explain. Yes, it's true and I'm convinced it's why I don't have more followers, despite the beauty knowledge I have. Today I'm sharing 100% TRUE STORIES that have happened to me at blogging events:

Cool bloggers are young, gorgeous, and are a size negative 0. They often are found holding Starbucks (I need some as I write this), wearing an expensive ensemble, and looking slightly to the left with a mischievous smile. They look like they just came from a magazine editorial shoot (they probably did). I am in awe. Cue amazing hair flip:

Then there's me. I arrive about an hour late to the event because of my day job. Usually I have to change my pants and shoes in the car. I always wear black pants because they're great at hiding stains. Everything is from Old Navy or Target--no fancy expensive stuff here. Today, I brought burgundy pants (#trendy color for fall) and actually have time to change in a public restroom. I get the pants on and then slip on the wet floor from a leaky toilet. I now have black wet spots on the back of my burgundy pants. I want to hide. I instead immediately tell everyone on Facebook:

I have also slipped and fallen during the local news before. #sexy

I have baby food on my shirt. I find a leaf in my hair from playing outside with the 5 year old--remove. I find Legos in my purse--keep. I want to leave. I take a deep breath since I have social anxiety, and walk in, failing at not looking nervous:

There's a wardrobe malfunction coming. Keep reading.

I have Resting B**** Face, so I smile at all times not to look mean and look approachable (if we meet in person, please talk to me! I swear I'm nice). Sometimes I'll instantly see other bloggers I am friends with to talk to. If not, someone usually comes up to me and introduces herself. She tells me her blog name and I recognize her, but once she says she loves my blog and that she follows me on Instagram, I get embarrassed, I can't remember anything, and I always blank out (with a smile):

Oh, and all conversations with people always happen when I am eating, so I try to be cool but realize later that I look like this:

Hi, I'm Elle.

There's a celeb guest that comes up to me. I have the craziest celeb encounters. When I get 2000 followers, I'll tell you my Lil Wayne story. Anyway, I try to make small talk and attempt to take a bite of my dessert with powdered sugar, which I end up somehow blowing all over her like this:

I've also had food go flying and drinks spill on others. Let's skip ahead. It's now nearing the end of the night. I'm in a group of fellow bloggers and it's going well. I'm actually talking! I think they like me! I'm spouting off my best beauty tips, proving my beauty knowledge, that I'm legit. And then I look down and see this:

Yes, all of the following have happened to me mid-conversation: cupcake icing in hair, food in teeth, lost earring, broken nail, necklace breaking in half, double-stick tape exposed, double-stick tape in my hair, things popping out, body parts revealing themselves, and the worst--my period starting right then and there. I'll definitely never be a cool blogger, but at least I can laugh at myself. That's cool, right? And my hair and makeup will be on point!

And who knows, maybe one day I'll walk in and look like this:

Hi. I'm Elle.