You're Beautiful. Deal With It.

I'm one of those annoying people who likes pretty things and will mention it. I don't see the point of not telling you that I like your outfit, your shoes, your jewelry, heck, that you look awesome. Life is hard enough as it is, no need to hold back on a few kind words.

I get two reactions to these compliments. Half the time, it's a heartfelt thank you, obviously pleased that someone had noticed the extra care or thought they'd put into their outfit or look. The other half, the half that bugs me right now, is made up of those who don't accept the compliment or don't seem to think it's sincere.

First off - screw you. That's right - screw you for accusing me of lying. There. It's out. My life is not so empty I need to fill it with fake compliments in the hopes of making someone feel good or making a friend. There's always room for more, but trust me, I already have so many loved ones it makes my heart burst with joy. That compliment is solely and entirely for you.

Second off - deal with it. A compliment, I've learned, can be as difficult to take as an insult. In either case, it shows that someone's paying attention, even if you'd hoped to go by unnoticed, to be unremarkable, to avoid a spotlight, no matter how tiny. 

I get it. I do. And that's part of what makes you beautiful, too.

When I was younger, my mom told me (in French, accompanied by a weird story about thighs and dancers. I dunno. But anyway...): "I wish I had seen myself as beautiful when I was your age. I wish someone had told me I was pretty."  Those words struck me as odd.  I'd seen pictures of my mom, and she was a hottie!  I thought (in about these words): "Shit, if hotties don't see themselves as beautiful, what the heck are the rest of us to do?"

So you can all blame my mom.  I see beauty, I mention it.  I guess I figure that if I can spare one person from never or from infrequently hearing compliments, then my job is done.

And I gotta tell you, I've met so many beautiful people that I can't help but gush when I see them. And when I compliment your shoes, your hair, your dress, the way you speak or how you laugh, what I'm really saying is that you're made of win. Totally. I can't say why, sometimes. I just know it, because I've seen you, I've seen the way you approach the world, and it's total, utter win.

And, while doing it, you wear awesome shoes and accessories, a great colour for your skin tone, words flow like water from your mouth and you let your hair run wild and it shapes your face just right.  And yes, I like bling. I *love* bling. Call me shallow for that, if you must. But don't call me a liar.

You're beautiful. Deal with it.