Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Taking a compliment.

It's generation selfie, and approval from peers is up there at the top of the list with food, water and oxygen these days. So if we're so set on flaunting our features, why is it so hard to accept a compliment? 

I've never been an awkward person. My old chum sarcasm has never strayed too far when I need to wriggle myself out of any potentially uncomfortable situations - but one thing I can't handle? Receiving, and graciously accepting, a compliment. I can't do it. I CAN'T.
Smug bitch.

Stemming back to my playground days when Adam - my first love at 7 years old - told me he liked me, my elation was soon followed by a wave of creeping suspicion - were his friends watching? Was this a dare? He was in primary 3, did he even know what love was? Cos I sure did, and I wasn't about to waste my time with some silly little boy throwing the L word around. Even at a young age, I couldn't wrap my head around this compliment shit. 

Even now, when I receive a compliment, I have a serious case of word vomit. Funny in Mean Girls, not so much in real life situations. No sooner have they finished their sentence, I'm already spewing out the words "Oh thanks! I love your..." and then it happens. What do I love? Anything? Okay, maybe not love, but I must like something. Of course I do! There is almost no end to things I like about her! But nothing comes out. Suddenly I'm lost for words, coming out in a rash, and she's slowly realising that I can't think of one nice thing to say. Say something. Say you like her hair? But that would be a lie - I liked it longer. She even liked it longer. If I can really sell this hair thing I may just make her day. If she doesn't buy it, she'll launch at me animalistic Mean Girls style. Seconds have passed, we're standing facing eachother - me with my brilliant shoes she has just complimented me on, and her standing in front of me with her shit hair - and I got nothin'. 


"...lips. I love your lips!"


Spot on, now you're a creep.

 Any other compliment-phobe creeps out there? C'maaan, show yourselves - we can get t-shirts made.

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