Apparently, I can’t take a compliment. But that’s okay… I’ve got a great “personality”.
Note to anyone that doesn’t want to hear about my sob story self-esteem issues: Somewhere along the way, this turned into a rant. It all goes downhill fast after the first paragraph. Instead, here’s the picture of a yummy latte that I was going to use for my own blog awards (sorry for the inconvenience). For the rest of you, read on at your own risk and don’t say that I didn’t warn you.
Well, yesterday was a busy day here on the blog front. It’s funny. I had been planning to make and give out a blog award but I hadn’t finished with the icon and I was beaten to the punch. Thanks and congrats again to everyone that participated!
I have to say that all of the attention that my blog received (due to getting the award in the first place and via comments) was really fun and I enjoyed it quite a bit but it kind of brought something about myself to my attention. Yesterday, as I said, my blog had a lot of hits and a lot of comments, which was fantastic. Loved, loved, loved it! Yesterday I also wore some new(ish) butterfly earrings that I had several people compliment, including a lady that I only know in passing.
When we exchanged good mornings, she complimented my earrings and even went so far as to touch one of them. (I live in deep South Texas and the culture down here is very touchy-feely so this wasn’t really unusual.) It was nice to get a compliment, but I also felt awkward and uncomfortable and very much like I was being scrutinized. If she noticed my earrings, what else did she notice?
I got that same uncomfortable feeling when I let my hair down toward the latter part of our seemingly endless test day last week (I was getting a headache from having it up too long. I usually wear it down at home where I can drape it over the back of the couch or the arm of the couch if I’m lying down.) and the ladies from the office gushed about how pretty it looked down and why I didn’t wear it down more and ignoring my reasons and offering suggestions as to how to make it not the frizzy mess that it becomes (no matter what I do) if it’s down for too long (One of my go-to responses when people ask why I don’t wear it down. As if it’s any of their business.) They fussed over it and, frankly, it made me feel like there was something wrong with me for not wearing it down. Fun, fun.
Of course, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I have self-esteem issues (and who doesn’t). You’ll notice that not a single picture on my blog has me in it and who knows if that will ever change. Don’t hold your breath on that one. I have never liked being the center of attention even though I’ve done my share of public speaking and I was involved with plays and skits with various churches that we’ve gone to over the years ever since I was a little girl. I’m a teacher, for goodness sake! I have to get up in front of my classes to speak all the time. But, somehow, this is different.
Unless it comes from someone I know and trust, (and even then I feel awkward and embarrassed sometimes) I don’t like compliments about my appearance. It makes me feel like I’m being judged and heaven knows I don’t want to be judged based on looks. That’s a losing battle.
I’m too tall. I’m too fat. I ALWAYS wear glasses (Putting little bits of clear stuff in my eye on purpose? Not gonna happen! Screw contacts!) I’m too concerned with comfort to do anything more that a bun with my hair (I HATE having my hair touch my neck or back! HATE! And I get hot easily.). My shoes suck because I have huge feet, I refuse to wear heels AND most shoe companies don’t even make my size! (What’s so hard about making half sizes after size 10, morons?! Also, little hint, shoemakers? Just increasing the dimensions on a size 5 is going to get a little hairy when you get into the double digits. That cute, normal-sized heel? Towering in a size ten. Yeah, that’s a good idea…) I don’t have the nicest clothes (even though I’m working on that) and I’ve always been a jeans and t-shirts kind of girl, out of necessity since nice clothes are pricey and selection for a “plus-sized” girl* that doesn’t want to wear a muumuu like her grandmother is for crap. And it doesn’t help that I hate shopping! So, sure, I’m not that stylish, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.
Yes, I know I’m going to be judged and held back and probably less of a success than I would be if I could “get the weight issue under control” (Hooray for more jargon! >_>), so don’t judge me any more that I already slaughter myself every day. I don’t need your condemnation or your pity. I exercise regularly. I could eat a little better, but I’m not that bad. And get a clue, people, thin does NOT equal healthy by any stretch of the imagination! I’m healthier that a lot of thin people and I have the doctor’s reports to prove it, so don’t harp on me about being concerned about my health without getting the facts first. And for anyone that would suggest that losing weight is easy (Just diet and exercise, you fat, lazy cow!): Diets don’t work and I’d like to see you try wearing 100 pound lead vest and going through a workout with me. Easy my ass!
So, sure, gush about my blog, my writing, my wit, my personality, my intelligence or any other thing that can be attributed to mental or emotional skill. I’m fine with that. I’ll be right there with you, patting me on the back and honking my own horn. Yup, I’m awesome! See how smart I am? Look how well I can string together sentences! Aren’t I amazing? But as soon as we enter the realm of the physical, I’m out. A lifetime’s worth of negativity has left me with very little self respect in that regard. Everyday, I wish things were different and over and over again, I’ve tried to “do something” about it, but I’ll never be anyone’s idea of beauty so don’t act so shocked (Oh! You look pretty today!) when I try to blend in a little.
*I hate the term “plus-sized”, by the way, but I use it so as not to offend skinny people by calling myself “fat”. Yeah, I don’t get that. “You’re not faaaaaat…” Bullsh*t. Let’s not sugar coat it. It’s insulting. I’m fat. We all know it. You’re not sparing my feelings… You’re making me wonder what you say when I’m not around.