You Like Me... You Really Like Me...

Mistreated
Misplaced
Misunderstood
Miss knowing it's all good
It didn't slow me down.

Mistaking
Always second guessing
Underestimating
Look I'm still around

Pretty, pretty please
Don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than

Perfect

I do not handle compliments well.  

I was at the salon today, getting my eyebrows cleaned up, and the stylist, Chelsea, asked me how old I was.  I told her and she said, "You'd never know it.  You have great skin.  I would have thought you were early to mid 30s, tops."

Now, true, she could have been just saying it to try to get a bigger tip, but for a moment I enjoyed the possibility of telling everyone I'm 32 instead of 42... until I realized that would mean being even further away from retirement.

Whenever anyone compliments me, I feel this need that comes from decades of being told "you're not good enough" to dispute the compliment.  I always find some way to joke it off, deflect it or something.  I hate that I do it.  As soon as I do it, I regret it.  The little voice inside my head says "just say thank you, smile politely and move on."  The self-defacing voice inside my head says, "Don't believe it. Don't let it go to your head."

I guess I should clarify -- only compliments pertaining to my appearance or physical being -- bother me.  If a person tells me I'm smart, funny, helpful, kind, nice, hard-working, etc, I eat that up and smile broadly and accept those compliments because I feel good about those qualities and feel confident that the compliments are sincere and true.

There's this scene in PRETTY WOMAN where "Vivian" and "Edward" are lying in bed and she confesses that all of her life, she's been told bad things about herself.  She tells him that if you hear the bad stuff long enough, you start to believe it. I'm paraphrasing.  Yes, I know.  I have the movie memorized.

All through my adolescence and well into my adulthood, I was always hearing from my parents that I wasn't what they expected me to be.  You'd think they would have been proud of a daughter who graduated high school with perfect attendance and straight As and who got accepted into all 4 colleges she applied to.  No. Their goal for me -- their mission for me -- was to get married and have kids.  In fact, when I was in high school, my dad introduced me to one of his CB-radio friends who was at least 10 years older than me in hopes that he could marry me off.   I was too headstrong.  Too independent.  I wanted to better myself and do great things.  I didn't want to stay in SW PA, marry some guy from that area and have a litter of kids.  I did not want to be just like the rest of my family.  Even after I graduated college (the only person in my family to graduate college), got a job, etc, it wasn't enough.  "What happened to that nice boy we met at graduation?  Did you scare him off?"  Then, later, "Are you a lesbian?  Why don't you have a man?"  And even later, "You know no man is ever going to want you if you don't lose weight."

I digress.  I get mad at other women who belittle themselves or make themselves the victim.  I am always encouraging positive self-worth, growing a spine, standing up for oneself.  I try to foster positive self-esteem in others by offering encouragement, support and compliments of my own on a regular basis.   I don't believe any of the things I heard growing up and I've pretty much adopted the "what the f*ck" attitude with my family (which is why I had to unfriend them.. I just could not allow them to poison my life.)

So, why can't I just say "thank you" when someone compliments me?  Why do I look over my shoulder to see who is standing behind me if a man smiles at me in public?  Why do I feel the need to point out my flaws when people tell me that I look nice in something? (And why are people still so shocked to see me in a dress on occasion?)

In addition to finding my idyllic small beach town some place where I can live, I'm going to start focusing on the fact that I am good enough, smart enough and that, gosh darn it, people like me. 

The real me.  In a dress. Looking like I've lost weight.  With my short sassy hair.  With my glowing soft skin. With my gorgeous green eyes.  With my pretty smile.  With my cute nose.  With my naughty laugh.  With my bodacious bosom. With my incredible sense of humor.  With my sharp brain.  With my great story-telling.  With my awesome memory.  With my fierce loyalty.  With my good cooking. With my generous heart.  With my youthful spirit.

Hmmm....  if I were to find a guy with these qualities (minus the dress and boobs thing), I think I'd date him. Maybe I'll just date myself for awhile and see how that goes. ;)