We’d made it through the second week of December and all its holiday-jazz. But just barely.
We’d had a lot of fun. And not a lot of sleep–are my kids the only kids who have coughing fits every hour, on the hour, all night long for an entire week? Big yawns.
I was tired. I looked tired. And the only thing that could breathe a little life back into my weekend was a basket (or three) of chips with white cheese sauce and a Margarona the size of my head.
So we loaded up the minivan and made our way down First Street to our happiest of happy places–Fiesta Café. We ate and drank–and laughed. And Danny took this picture of me with the cutest little Cyborg of all the Cyborgs.
I posted it to my Facebook page and my girlfriend chimed in about having the same kind of week and eating at the same kind of Mexican restaurant across town. Then she complimented my hair.
I should have said, “I love you for saying that. Thank you.”
But I didn’t.
I replied to her comment, saying I used the “cover your dark circles, make your hair less greasy filter.” And we traded self-criticisms about ourselves and our saggy-mom-parts for the next hour, with a few other moms chiming in.
Then my college girlfriend hit us all with a response too good not to screen-shot.
Vessels of awesome–that made me laugh out loud. But she was so right.
Why is it so much easier for me to criticize myself than accept a compliment?
Compliments–especially about my looks–are hard. They’re hard for me to accept on a good day when I’ve slept– and my dark circles are covered–and my hair doesn’t look like the Exxon Valdez oil spill. But accepting a compliment on a bad day? That’s almost impossible for me.
It’s not that I don’t love myself, because I do–although self-love is a newer concept for me. It’s more that I don’t want anyone to think I love myself too much. Because no one likes a narcissist. Or an egotist. Or a vain mom who thinks her kid is the cutest little Cyborg of all the Cyborgs and her greasy beachwaves rival Gisele’s. Ha.
But I can do better. We can all do better.
Beautiful. Hard working. Talented. Amazing. Vessels of awesome. We are all of that. I am all of that. And the next time someone compliments me–or my hair, I’ll just say thank you.