Tell Me I’m Pretty

A complete stranger told me I was pretty today.

I was standing in line at the checkout in the grocery store and the cashier and I were idly chatting about something I can’t even remember now. Just one of those inconsequential conversations you have, you know?

Anyway, the woman in line behind me was obviously listening. Somewhere along the way I made a comment about how I might get better access to something if I was 18 and pretty. The cashier and I laughed that kind of laugh you do when you know something is painfully true but you’re pretending it doesn’t matter.

Then I said it was all right because my hubby still thought I was pretty, even after all these years. So it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

The woman behind me immediately chimed in, “You’re still pretty.”

Sweet, right? An unsolicited compliment. So what did I do?

I diminished it.

I fucking diminished it.

I laughed the kind of laugh you do when you feel awkward and then thanked her in a very offhand manner. Which I’m not proud of, by the way. I mean, she was just being nice. Right?

But then I did the thing that I knew was really wrong when I did it. The thing that I always do. The thing that I hate when other women do it and I just did it anyway.

I made a joke about how many glasses of wine she’d had for lunch.

Yup. You got it. I implied that she had to be drunk to think I was pretty.

What’s worse is that she got it. Instantly. Because I’m willing to bet my considerable ass that she’s done the same thing herself.

Because it’s what we all do, isn’t it? It’s what women do.

Men don’t do this as much, do they? If you compliment a guy he usually puffs up and takes the compliment as his due. Like he knows he’s all that and a bag of chips and it’s about damn time you noticed.

But women? No way. We demur. We turn away. We make a joke. We laugh it off. And I know it’s not just me because I’ve seen countless women do it over the years. Women who just can’t seem to take a compliment about anything. Even from other women.

This isn’t about a #MeToo moment or anything like that. It’s not about some guy trying to get in my pants or someone wanting something from me. This was just a sweet, lovely older woman offering up a sweet, lovely compliment to a complete stranger.

And I made her feel bad about it. Or less than, anyway.

I knew when I did it that I shouldn’t do it. I knew after I’d done it that it was stupid. Senseless. But I did it anyway.

I’m smart as hell and I don’t generally have self esteem issues and I just plain smacked away that compliment as surely as if I’d have taken a tennis racket to the thing with a back-swing worthy of Serena Williams.

Why do we do this? More importantly, why do we do this to ourselves?

We’re conditioned. From birth. We’re taught to be quiet. Be small. Not to draw attention to ourselves. Even a woman like me who was raised by a strong mother and a loving father who both told me I could be anything and do anything I wanted in this life. Who always made me feel loved.

Still, I knew deep down at an instinctive level that I should push away the attention.

Whether I’m pretty or not isn’t even the issue. The issue is why I couldn’t let a perfectly nice woman say I was. Just once. Just for a moment.

And honestly, I don’t have an answer for why not.

At least, not a good one.