Day 10 – Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
There’s no way you’re going to trick me into answering that. Even if I did have an answer, which I don’t, how awful would I feel actually posting it for all the world to read? Someone I wish I didn’t know? Yeah, I’m not answering that.
So, I’ll do another Day:
Day 11 – Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
I. Don’t. Know. What kind of stuff are we talking here? How’s about a comment I get often that I take as a compliment? I’ve been compared to Tina Fey many times by many different people and I see that as the ultimate compliment. I know the comparison is mainly based on my black-rimmed glasses, frizzy brown hair, and the love of a good potty joke. But Tina Fey just happens to be one of my heroes, she’s hilarious, intelligent, and (I think) beautiful, so even the vaguest of comparison is enough to inflate my ego disproportionately.
Another one! Another one!
Day 12 – Something you never get compliments on.
My smile. No doubt. And that’s not a self-depreciating aesthetic thing. I don’t get compliments on my smile because I don’t smile enough for anyone to take notice.
Everything that needs to be said about this was said on Day 1. I’m a happy person, in general, I just keep it inside. I laugh on the inside, and I’m not being facetious. I find a lot of things funny. In fact, most things are funny to me, appropriate or not, I just … don’t LOL about it.
What else … no one ever compliments me on my deflated post-baby boobs, or my fuzzy-wuzzy wackadoo hair, or how I immediately and automatically give animals their own theme songs (Bos-corelli ‘pon da left hand side). I’ve never once heard that I have a lovely singing voice, at least by anyone who wasn’t drunk. No one seems to care that I know all the words to ODB’s Baby, I Got Your Money and every song on the Wicked soundtrack. NO ONE CARES.
But that’s just fine anyway because I don’t take compliments very well. I get all embarrassed and uncomfortable. I appreciate them, of course, but they weird me out sometimes. Maybe I’m just not used to hearing them … ahem.