…well, to be quite honest, no I don’t! I look like I have just climbed out of bed, wearing one of your old over-sized T-shirts, with a disturbing lack of make up and hair that looks like it has been attacked by an angry flock of birds.
I fail to see how I could look anything other than rough in these circumstances, and yet my significant other seems quite certain that I am a vision of loveliness beyond all imagination.
So I respond with the obligatory and self–effacing “Don’t be so bloody ridiculous! I look totally awful” and head off into the bathroom to remedy the situation with a renewed sense of urgency.
Through the door I hear the mumbled words “I just don’t know why you can’t take a compliment” as he walks down the stairs.
Let’s pause here and consider for a moment why it might be so hard for me to take a compliment. I’ll admit that I do have a small issue with receiving positive feedback on my appearance, and I am not entirely sure why. But surely, there is a time and a place. And surely, that time is not 6.30am and the place is not just outside the bathroom?
I find it uncomfortable accepting compliments because what are you supposed to say that doesn’t make you sound superbly arrogant (“why thank you, yes I am beautiful. You are so right!”)? Surely it is better to play it down, be a little bit surprised and slightly uncomfortable than it would be to drink it in with confidence and an unsurprised air!
Then you have the obvious question of what is it that makes my man see the horror story that is me fresh from my bed, and drowned in navy cotton as anything other than – well – a horror story?!
|Me at 6.30am...Beautiful? Not even if you squint my friend!|
I know that you can find women that roll out of bed looking cutely dishevelled and sweet, but I am not one of them. Nothing about me is “cute” – I place far more emphasis on being dishevelled! And as if that weren’t bad enough, I’m not even a morning person. I am hideously grumpy and mono-syllabic. In short, everything about me is unappealing in the extreme.
He would say he loves me, no matter how I look. I would say he needs to get his eyes checked. He would say it is about the person that I am and not how I look. I would say don’t be so ridiculous, I am as unpleasant to be around as I am to look at before 9am.
I don’t think I will ever understand what he sees that is so appealing, but I suppose at the end of the day (or first thing in the morning!), I should just be grateful that he does!