In the last week or so, I've had several comments about myself been offered as compliments. It's interesting to examine my self-image, physically and otherwise, and see what bounces back from other people as a reflection.

From a first in-office interview with a professor who will be receiving, reading, and critiquing a portfolio of my writing:
"You're very vibrant and enthusiastic."

From a gathering of ladies who are visiting local authority, after a meeting in church:
"I missed your braids. (to others) She was wearing braids at the last meeting I was in."
(to others, in front of me) "She wears the darlingest clothes. She has some of the coolest things."

From a lady who wanted me to actively contribute to her lesson; she called me yesterday to ask me to do so:
"You're so darling. You'll be so cute."

Cute. I hate being called cute. I've avoided dressing, sounding or appearing cute for as long as I can remember. It's just such a general term; it's used to describe babies, pets, inanimate objects, and almost everything else imaginable. Couldn't you use something a little more descriptive? And yet, even at age 22, I'm still referred to as "cute". There is only one person who is allowed to call me cute, and it's only because he's my husband. And even then I will scowl. Which he will then call cute.
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