This past Friday was pretty much the best day ever. Here’s why:
- I had the day off from work.
- I got to drive to the most adorable little coffee shop in a neighboring town and start my morning with some girl talk.
- I got my nails done, went on a much-needed walk, and polished it all off with a two-hour nap.
- After nine months of trying, I finally figured out the kipping pull-up! (I suspect the two-hour nap helped.)
- I was invited to become a CrossFit coach at my local box! (Coach Katrina? Kind of a scary thought, but I’m running with it!)
- I celebrated a fabulous friend’s birthday over wine, wine and…more wine.
Truly, it was one of those days where I felt like I was prancing around on cloud nine the entire time. And this list didn’t even include the best part!
Are you ready for this?
I was recognized by a complete stranger because of this blog!
Alright, alright…maybe it’s not that big of a deal, but it’s the first time I’ve ever had that happen, and totally made me feel like an internet celebrity.
It all went down during my bi-weekly manicure. I was chatting with Peter — the best nail tech in all of Smalltown — when a girl who had been getting a pedicure approached us. She was totally adorable, and had the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. (Yeah…I was checking her our while she got her toes painted…so?) As she came closer, I couldn’t help but wonder why someone so fabulous wanted to talk to boring old me.
“Okay,” she started “I feel like a total creeper for saying this, but…”
At this point I assumed she was going to ask me where my shoes were from or what color nail polish I had used for my manicure. Instead, she surprised me with “…but I found your blog on The Stanfield Clan one day and totally love it!”
My jaw dropped to the floor.
I may have let out a squeal of delight…although honestly I don’t really remember.
Christy, if you are reading this, you totally made my day! (Also, sorry if I just spelled your name wrong.)
We chatted for a few minutes, and she as was sweet as can be. I even confessed that I had been creepily admiring her hair from a far. I was still basking in the glow of blog recognition when she walked out of the salon.
But then it hit me.
What if in “real life”, I’m not as cool as I am on the internet?
In person, I don’t have the luxury of a software widget that checks my grammar. I can’t review every single word that comes out of me before hitting “publish”, nor do I have the ability to erase the giant zit on my chin with some Photoshop.
In a face to face conversation, I’m not all that witty or clever. I also probably have spinach in my teeth. (Which at least distracts from the giant zit on my chin.) For all you know, I have a terrible lisp!
(Alright, fine. I don’t have a terrible lisp. But I could.)
Often times, I feel like my “blog self” and “real self” are two totally different personas. I can’t tell you how many times someone I’ve known for months (or even years) stumbles across ‘Sota is Sexy. “I had no idea you were _____!”, They’ll say. (Fill in the blank with ‘so funny’, ‘so sarcastic’, ‘a writer’….the list goes on.) I assume this is because I don’t speak to my acquaintances with the same snarky tone I use on this blog.
But we all do it, right? Whether you’re a blogger or are just on Facebook, the things you share online will never be able to show the entire story. We’re always going to use the most flattering profile picture, share the things that are cool, and keep the icky, embarrassing, shameful stuff to ourself. Even I, the queen of TMI, have certain things I won’t post for fear of public ridicule. And when I do write something embarrassing, I try to spin it in a cute, charming way. I have no problem being the ridiculous girl from the internet. But I want to be the ridiculous girl from the internet who people find loveable…not gross.
So–if we ever run into each other at Wal-Mart, and you discover that I’m way more boring/fat/ugly/weird/normal/awkward in the flesh…sorry, but I’m not sorry.
On a related note, it turns out I wasn’t the only one who got recognized this weekend.
I brought Scott along to the birthday party I mentioned above. One of the highlights of the night was meeting a fellow blogger from Smalltown who I’ve only interacted with online. When I introduced Scott to her, she responded with, “Oh, I know you. You’re Jamæsel!”
Naturally, this made me love her even more.
On the drive home, I asked Scott if he was embarrassed that people all over town (some of whom are probably also his patients) know him as Jamæsel.
“Are you kidding?” he smirked. “I relish it.”
Of course he does.