Compliments. Every girl likes them. Except for me?
How is that a novel idea? To me, compliments are awful. They make me self-conscious. Compliment me on my shirt? I start grabbing at it, trying to make it look as good as possible. But in my eyes, it never will. Compliment my hair? I run my fingers through it, tousling it until I am sure it looks dreadful and feel like I didn’t deserve the compliment in the first place. Nice makeup? I drag my fingers under my eyes to make sure I don’t have raccoon eyes, and then decide I need to freshen up my makeup because it has been on a while. Compliment me on my body shape? I grab at my sides trying to hold them in while simultaneously sucking in my tummy.
I don’t know why I hate compliments, but I do.
Perhaps it is because there are some days where I am completely happy with myself. I look in the mirror and I actually like what I see. I’m not a stick anymore, I have some curves in the bottom had of my body. It is something I can actually be proud of. I do not look perfect by any means, but I am happy with myself. I have recently discovered I went up from a size 3 to a size 5, and I am perfectly okay with that.
And then there are other days where I look in the mirror and all I see are lumpy thighs and loose skin where muscle should be. I look down and see the waves of my stomach and imagine what it would be like not to be able to see my toes. I can circle every flaw on my face and wish with all of my might for me to become tan and those blemishes to go away.
And especially on those days, I do not like compliments. Thanks, but no thanks.