You Look Maaaahvelous

If you know me, then what I'm about to confess probably seems like a bold, ridiculous lie, but here it goes: I'm plagued by shyness. My default in social situations is awkward. I never feel like I fit in or belong anywhere ... ever. I feel like a dork amongst some of my oldest and kindest friends, I feel like a dork when I meet new people; I guess the common denominator is me, being a dork.

I'm okay with being a dork. I'm used to it. That's not what this is about.

The reason that statement might seem like a lie is this: I'm not quiet. I'm a talker. (I'm also comfortable with being a talker.) This is partly due to nervousness, and also because I like people, even though I feel like a tremendous goofball about 100% of the time. If I'm not talking, then I have the time to worry about what they're thinking. If I am talking to them -- and hopefully, we're talking about them -- then I don't have the time to fret about their detection of my innate dorkiness.

This is not about that either.

Here's what this IS about: as a result of both the dorkiness and the talking, I have a tendency to talk to complete strangers. Here's why: I know what it's like to feel completely miserable but to try to look like I don't. Because I constantly feel like an idiot, I'm not afraid to risk LOOKING like an idiot, so I will approach people I don't know very well or at all (I know this seems contradictory) and give them a compliment.

There it is: I am a serial compliment-er. (And finally, I arrive at the point. Hey, it's early and I'm tired.)

I think that if you are out and about, and you witness fabulousness, you should mention it. As an example, I am on a trivia team (which is seriously the most fun thing ever, and deserves its own post at some point) and there's a woman on one of the other teams who is COMPLETELY Fabulous. In fact, in my head, that's her name: The Fabulous Amber. When I told her -- you are fabulous! -- she looked startled. Later, she told me that the acknowledgment of her fabulousness made her night.

I compliment people walking by on the street. I compliment people who are good at their jobs. I compliment people who seem like they need a lift and some who seem like they don't. Don't get me wrong -- I don't LIE to people; I don't tell someone "Wow, your nails are amazing" if I don't actually think that they are -- but there's quite a lot of fabulous out there waiting to be noticed.

This trait really annoyed someone I used to be involved with -- he HATED that I felt compelled to talk to strangers and thought it was weird. I think it's weirder that it seems suspicious or odd to try to make someone's day a little brighter by offering them something kind and telling them that something about them -- even if it's completely superficial -- is awesome. Because, again, I know what it's like not to feel so awesome, and to feel like there's not that much about me worth noticing.

The other thing about the complimenting? It often rebounds. If you make someone smile and feel wonderful? It can make you feel pretty wonderful yourself.

Even if you are a tremendous dork at heart.

(oh and hey, you know what? I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read this here blog... YOU, my friend, are AWESOME. Thanks again!)