Can't You Take A Joke?
When I was a kid, the phrase "can't you take a joke?" was a familiar one. As I passed puberty I slowly navigated the funny scene and got away with getting, or pretending to get, most jokes, I started to strengthen my inner belief that others were their own beings and their interpretations of me didn't necessarily reflect my goodness-- I started to take fewer things so personally, at least on the outside.
My tender innards, were still, well, tender. And it was as if that translated to the self-deprecating pattern women are expected to form. I was as good at taking a compliment as I had been at taking a joke. I sucked at it.
Don't Throw Away The Compliment
I accepted compliments like I would molding bread proudly presented by a dinner party guest. Feign a smile and when they weren't looking, pressed foot to trash-can pedal and in she goes.
Only I didn't notice what I thought was mold were poppy seeds and the loaf still warm with love.
When someone would say, "I like your skirt," I'd either trash the thing or how I looked in it. Yea, you, too?
As I got better, this shifted to telling the complimenter how cheap it was. This wasn't much better than tossing the good bread in the trash. Perhaps it was closer to composting, but the bread was still good, and kind, and full of love, and I couldn't accept it.
Downplaying a compliment is throwing away love.
We might think it humility or modesty. But this kind of appearing humble is pride's best disguise. We loathe so intensely our own being that we go out of our way to help others loathe us, too. This is just as self-centered as the arrogant bitch who stole your boyfriend. We say that she thinks she's better than everyone else; you think you're worse. When in fact she's hiding her shame with power, and your hiding your power with shame.
Breathe a moment. You might already know this, but perhaps you forgot to tell your tongue and teeth before they formed the words, "Oh, it's nothing really," the last time someone raved about the food you made or the scarf you knitted or the class you taught. You might have even left your house thinking, "damn I look good, wonder if anyone will notice?" And when they do, you toss away their compliment like moldy bread.
Can you imagine someone handing you a thoughtful, maybe not perfect, but thoughtful and nice gift on your birthday, smiling half-heartedly in full denial that you deserve anythi