It makes no nevermind if I've spackled on six pounds of Mary Kay or if my bra pushes my boobs up so high, it looks as though I've got nipples growing out of my chin. I have this amazing ability to remain essentially invisible to the hairier sex. Really. I don't attract the attention of men except my husband and, of course, your friendly neighborhood lecherous Wal-Mart janitor. However, the tide seems to be turning. In the past couple of weeks, men have taken to bestowing compliments on me that range from "classy" to "Excuse me, miss lady. I just had to say that you are WORKING that DRESS!"
Not that I'm complaining. After all, I don't know one red-blooded American woman that doesn't need to hear a compliment like that every now and then. Problem is, I never learned how to take compliments- from friends, family or superstore cleaning staff- graciously. When I look in the mirror, I always see the twelve year old with zits and a gherri curl (don't laugh. my shit was BANGIN'!) with the dead-on Pee Wee Herman impression. I don't know how to fix this or even if I should. Humility is good for the soul and my impressions were the bomb.
I kinda like being the "funny" one of the group. It carries lower expections.
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