On compliments, self esteem and English as a second language.

I must preface this entry by telling you that I love my husband. Just tonight as we were sitting together on the couch he told me how good I looked. He is thoughtful, affectionate, cooks dinner for me and compliments me often among other things.

That being said, I have to say that occasionally the fact that English is his second language makes for some amusing backwards compliments,which I have had to explain to him aren't really compliments.

Let us start with our first trip to Vegas. We were contemplating checking out the pool at our hotel. It was a bit of a trek to the pool from our room and eventhough I did see a few people walking through this enormous hotel (the MGM Grand) in their swimsuits, I was a little apprehensive about doing same. When I mentioned to Bob that I didn't know if I should wear my swimsuit down to the pool, he lovingly paid me what he thought was a compliment and said, "Go ahead, I've seen worse." I am laughing out loud as I type this. He was trying to tell me I looked good and go for it,but that's not exactly how it came out. He has yet to live that one down.

On another cozy evening when we were sitting on the couch, I lazily had my legs draped across his lap. When you read the word "draped"you should envision lean, long, tanned (shaved) legs. (Insert LOL here). He gently placed his hand on the exposed skin between the top of my rainbow striped ankle socks and my pants. He stared lovingly into my eyes and said "Do all the women in your family have thick ankles?" I tried to explain to him that in no way shape or form could that comment be interpreted as any sort of compliment. Again, I am laughing out loud as I type. To my dear cousins and aunties, I assured him, no I am the only one.

Now being in my early (ahem) 40s, I spend a bit more time in front of the mirror, you know "suffering" as my mother taught me. (See previous blog entry). Each morning I get up at about 5:50am and I spend about an hour or so getting ready. That is the time I give to myself each day. The rest of the day, my time is given to others. I will not give up this "me time" and I think Dr. Phil would commend me for this. He would probably tell me I should be taking more me time (right Sherry?), but he doesn't live in my shoes or my house. So here is how the next compliment goes....

She gazed into the mirror. Her shoulder length hair was meticulously straightened and glistened in the light from the lightbulb that sticks out of the wall in her bathroom. She swung her hair from side to side and was happy with how it fell. Her mascara-covered eyelashes were water-proofed and had no clumps. No spider eyes will ever be criticized on these baby-browns. No line of makeup along her jawline from her carefully applied foundation and her lipgloss glistened on her lips. She pulled open her underwear drawer and pulled out a pretty bra and panty set she bought at La Senza. She gave up on the thongs. They literally had become a pain in the ass. Those buggers had a mind of their own and kept trying to head north. So a nice pair of matching bikini panties was the choice. She slipped out of her second hand bathrobe and into her pretty undies. She heads into the walk in closet to decide what garments might best hide her 40 something lumps and bumps. As she is standing there she hears her husband come into the room. She adjusts her bra, pulls the bikini bottom out of the crack of her butt and sucks in her stomach trying to look 30 something. As her husband walks in he does a double take. He says in an astonished voice, "What's wrong with your leg????!!!!????" She looks down at her left leg and then her right and says, "What? What's wrong with my leg?" Still in an astonished voice he says, "That hole!!! What's that hole in your leg???" As she gazes down she catches sight of what has got him all stewed up. "Honey, that's fat. It's called cellulite." Insert more laughs here. And 4 years later, he has yet to live that down.

Yes, the "she" is me. I have been blessed with "holes" in my legs since I was young. Oh well. As previously mentioned, I repeatedly teach my boys, not to use the words moustache or fat in a sentence when you are talking to a girl. So Bob technically didn't break any of those rules, bless his heart. I laugh every time I repeat these words that fell from his poor francophone lips.

Ladies love your bodies. The years will not be kind. Gravity will do its thing. You've earned any wrinkles you have, hopefully by smiling instead of frowning. Don't take yourself too seriously. You are beautiful inside and out. Tell your daughters how beautiful they are and tell your sons how handsome they are too. Tell your husband he is sexy. It's always nice when others give our sagging self esteem a little boost. Tell your friends that you like their new hair cut or colour. That the outfit they are wearing looks excellent. I even pay compliments to strangers.

Today's compliment was as it should have been. Out of the blue and in the middle of a random conversation. It was sincere and I thanked him for it. Oh, did I forget to mention, he told me my boobs looked good too. ;)