Why am I utterly incapable of accepting a compliment?
I was at Trader Joe’s (yes I realize that most of my stories start out with those 5 words?) when a male cashier pointed to Maya and asked me, “how old is your little sister?” Um, seriously? And while he looked on, bewildered, I listed the reasons his compliment didn’t make any sense:
- I am 34 years old.
- Maya is 5.
- Even if I look 10 years younger (and I hope I do) Maya still couldn’t be my younger sister.
I’m sure he regretted opening his mouth in the first place, as do most people who throw a nice word my way.
Here is what one can expect when one attempts to be nice to me:
- Oh you like my shirt? I totally picked this up at Target – it was super cheap! $14.99, deal of the century.
- Seriously? You think my hair looks good? I only have my Japanese straightening guru to thank! He is the only man who can tame this nightmare into submission.
- The lasagna was good? I’ll give you the recipe - it’s so easy a monkey could make it!
I’ve read etiquette books! I’ve read self-help books! I’ve consulted classy people who know about classy stuff! And yet I still say things like, “You like my blog? Really? I can’t believe people are interested in reading the random things I write on my blog.”
Starting today I will not feel arrogant for accepting a compliment. I will not feel the need to reciprocate with a (insincere?) compliment. I will not over share details about prices and straightening gurus and monkeys who cook Italian food. I am going to try to say “thank you” and move on.