Please check out the whole outfit post here!
On Saturday, I went into Stockholm to attend the annual Blog Awards, prepared to lose.
And I did. Of course. It’s not rocket science – I have a tiny blog and noone has a clue who I am, which means that they don’t vote for me. But that doesn’t make losing any less annoying. Nope.
To make up for the fact that I’m a loooooooooooser, I made sure to have a really, really good time! My sister Amanda and I probably had more fun than everyone else at the party combined, we met terrific people and danced until our feet were so sore and full of blisters we couldn’t stand up for another second. (Okay, mine were. Amanda apprently has magic feet and can run around in litas all night without complaining once.)
The dress code was “gala”, so I put on a dress that made me feel like I was on my way to one of the Gossip Girl masquerade balls!
Ah, this dress! I will definitely take better photos of it some time when I’m not late for an award show, because the pure awesomeness of it gets a little bit lost in these. I got it from the brand Love and it’s one of the most classy yet interesting dresses I’ve ever owned.
I don’t think the photographers at the Blog Awards agreed, though: Amanda and I were the only people who weren’t asked to do the (supposedly) mandatory “red carpet” shoot. Since that’s one of my least favorite situations ever, I was more than grateful – but it was a weird feeling to realize what a complete nobody I am to these people.
Do I usually consider myself a “somebody”? I do, the way every person should. I do feel like a person who is loved and appreciated for who she is, and I live my life being as caring and decent as I can manage. That should be enough to be a somebody, don’t you think?
It’s actually quite funny how much my life differs from the sort of lifestyle we got a taste of this Saturday. I work, I take walks, I spend time with Ronnie and the cats, I fix stuff around the house and garden; I do not worry about if my legs look pale or if I’m on the list or if people “know who I am”. Events like this one bring back those kinds of thoughts, and I’m not the slightest bit interested in regressing to my awkward, self-conscious teens and early twenties. God, that version of me pretty much sucked. You would not have liked her. She was obsessed with all the wrong things. I’m so glad I’m getting older every day!
