"I can live for two months on a good compliment."

Last night, as my husband introduced to me the beautiful Amalia Fuentes, she turns to me and tells me I'm pretty... that she loves my dimples, and that I have beautiful skin... and that despite the circumstances, she is happy to have met me.

And then she turns to my husband and tells him I'm pretty... in case he hasn't already realized it and he had better.

I was so stunned I ended up mumbling, "It's because of Galvanic Spa."

Really, what else could I say? "That's like Liz Taylor telling you you're pretty." (In the words of my husband)

She does however [and quite freakishly] remind me of my mother -- beautiful, strong-willed, assertive, charismatic, and very intimidating. But don't get it twisted: they don't light up the room. They command it. (Not quite sure if that's a good thing or a a bad thing at this moment, but perhaps... maybe... it's more good than bad. I mean... looking good because of your mother, whoever or whatever she is, can't ever be that bad.).

"These strong Spanish women," my husband says.

My sisters and I would be lucky to have half our own mother's commanding presence.

But I digress.

I was utterly cowed.

                                                      via ageLOC ME app


.....

Now I noticed [like I do when I have another one of my epiphanies]... when a man is forthcoming enough to tell a woman she's pretty, it's usually out of sheer wonder and amazement (when he's not merely being polite). But... when a woman tells another woman she's pretty, it sounds like an accusation. Like you've committed a crime against humanity and she's wondering, as she looks you over wide-eyed with surprise, what you could've possibly done to deserve such a face.

And that is why I think more women should give other women more compliments. Women (at least their surprise), are just more honest that way.