Humble

At the restaurant we have a dessert cart that I have the pleasure of wheeling from table to table. We have a large variety of desserts such as Key Lime pie, Creme Brule, Bread Pudding, Cheescake, Cherry Cobbler Pie, Apple Crisp Pie, Blueberry Pie, Strawberry Rhubarb Pie, Tiramasu, Triple Chocolate Pound Cake, Toll House Pie, Peanut Butter Pie, and Chocolate Pecan Pie. In my spiel I frequently mention that my favorite selection is our Oreo Mousse, and that I consider myself somewhat of a dessert connoisseur (which is true, I've had more than my fair-share of desserts in the last 29 years).

I am never prepared when the response is, "You sure don't look it", or "You look too skinny to be a dessert connoisseur" or, "How is that possible, you're too slim?". I am by no means a large woman. I am however, not exactly petite. I have struggled with my weight since well before puberty hit; when I lived on mayonnaise sandwiches, cinnamon toast, and hot dogs with the ends cut off because they looked like belly buttons. I am caught off guard because I don't think of myself as slender enough that strangers should feel compelled to comment and I NEVER know how to respond. My responses have varied from, "Ummmm, thanks" to "It's the black pants, they're deceiving". It's uncomfortable, though clearly the delivery is meant as a compliment. Compliments are nice, right? Indeed, we all need them sometimes.

During the last twenty four hours The Girl has innocently informed me that I have a lot of gray hair and look old, that I have a yellow tooth, that I have a lot of acne, that I have a large portion of eye lashes missing, and that I have weird ears. It's a good thing she's around. Otherwise all of those compliments might just go to my head.