If you've ever scrolled through my Instagram, then you probably noticed that I love taking pictures! (Mostly of my food, clothes, and flowers :))) I'm not a professional photographer by any means, but I'm still picky when it comes to what photos I post on social media. Normally the "perfect picture" takes time and a few practice shots before I settle on a good, Instagram-worthy photo. After that, I crop and edit it, then cross my fingers and click "post".

Unlike most people, I really love blurry, unstaged photos. They make me all sentimental because their spontaneity captures the energy of a moment in a way that staged pictures can't. So, for that reason, (and because everybody needs a big slice of humble pie) I'm about to do something most bloggers would never do: 

I'm going to post a bunch of bad photos of myself. On the internet. For everyone to see. 

Please feel free to gather all of your friends and scroll through this post together. Giggle your little hearts out. 

I call this one "Butterfly Awkwardly Shedding Its Cocoon"

Did I have something in my eye? Probably.

This picture perfectly describes everything people don't tell you about wearing boyfriend shorts. 

Nashville was windy. Hair fixing was mandatory. 

Oh yes. That is my boyfriend and me wearing matching Minion tank tops at a bowling alley!

"Did I get coffee on my sweater I think I spilt it on my white sweater dangit why did I pick white" 

It was sunny and I had just finished doing my mascara using the iPhone camera...

HAH. So y'all remember that super cute Red Velvet Strawberry Layer Cake I made my sister for her birthday? This was my first attempt!!

What is posing??

Sunglasses=Stuck in Hair=Every Girl Ever.

This is called "I just Had a Tumor Removed and I'm Not Sure I Have a Bellybutton Anymore" plus Happy Halloween!

Wind. Back at it again.

I found a cool doorway, but had no clue how to pose in it...

Back to bowling! We were cute. 

Wind. Sunlight. Nature. They're all against me. 

And last, but not least, Garrison and I trying to entertain ourselves during JB's opening act. (Sorry, Post Malone, you scare me).

Keeping it humble,

Em.