I was a chubby kid with dreams of one day being beautiful. I would pump up music in my room and imagine that I was a star, proudly singing on stage for everyone to see. I would pretend that I was in a Broadway play, the main character, using large mannerisms and opera mouth gestures to ignite impromptu applause from the audience. I would imagine that I was so appealing and talented that I could achieve anything in life. The thing was, though, that it was all pretend. In my real life I was anything but confident. I knew that my body was different and that I was not beautiful like other girls.
My mother had a job at a non-profit and I would sometimes visit her office after school. The building (right off of the main street) had long hallways lined with cubicles and internal-windowed offices. I would run through the fluorescent lighting into the back, where my mom's desk was.
I don't know if there was a shortage of daughter's in this workplace but my arrival always brought people out from the woodwork. One woman in particular, named Diane, would appear every time without fail. She was a co-worker of my mother's and was, in my mind, a female version of Friar Tuck out of Robin Hood. She was immensely large, to the point that walking seemed unnatural, with a jovial demeanor. She wore what looked like robed floral clothing; a shirt that resembled a wide dress that fell past the knees and then matching cloth pants. Her short hair revealed a jolly face with sparkly eyes. Every time I saw her coming I lit up. She was the only one that I had ever met that truly made me feel beautiful (well... except for my mother but in my mind she did not count - she was biased).
Looking back I do not know why she saw something in me, but she did. The first time we met she gasped dramatically. "Dear God," she said, as her jaw dropped and then she looked at my mother, "This is the most beautiful child I have ever seen."
"Aw, thank you, Diane." My mother replied.
"Natalie," Diane whispered, kneeling down to my 11-year-old height, "Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful face? You could be a
model."
"No," I said with an awkward laugh and slight blush. I thought to myself, 'This woman is delusional. No, this must be staged. My mom told her to do this.'
Yet with every meeting the impact grew. She would cajole me to her desk where she would proceed to shower me with accolades that actually seemed sincere. After awhile, I began to believe her. In spite of the fact that my body was thicker then my friends and my face plumper than any model, I began to believe that perhaps there was something special about me; that perhaps beauty was something relative.
Where do these compliment-dishing women come from? Were they bred on some island to try to preserve the sanity and integrity of self-worth? Were they trained in the artistry of beauty and language, somehow taught to be selflessly observant? Or are they just the products of upbringings where they themselves were given love and appreciation from their parents?
Why do we not comment on the sheer attractiveness that we see outwardly? Are we afraid that acknowledging another person's beauty will validate our own lack? Do we feel that it would be creepy or inappropriate to break the monotonous stranger silence with such an intimate phrase? Or is it that we are conditioned to
compete and that giving a compliment would be admitting defeat?
So many of us suffer from lack of confidence, low self-esteem and body image issues. Many of us may have not heard a compliment in regards to ourselves in years and we begin to believe that we are never noticed or that we have very little to offer that is truly one-of-a-kind. What would happen if we began supporting one another by voicing what we see?
Imagine a world where people sincerely
see each other. We notice the magnificence and splendor in one another and pay tribute with words. We use every opportunity to say what it is that we are genuinely thinking that has the power to uplift and inspire.
One person giving an honest compliment creates a ripple effect that changes the community that day - the one person affected will share that energy with another and the process continues until everyone is seen as a work of art in some way. We never assume that they already know because most do not; and even if they do they need a reminder amidst their bad day.
In the grocery store the other day I had an experience that deeply amazed me. I was in a rush with my basket, dipping into shelves, darting past people in aisles, moving like a character in a video game. Turning the corner into the canned food aisle a woman stood facing away from me looking at the curry canned seasonings. She had the most beautiful blond hair that was perfectly curled like it was out of some 1940's pin-up poster. If Diane was here, she would say it. I positioned myself next to her.
"Excuse me, I just wanted to say that you have the most beautiful, radiant hair!" I said reluctantly. Her face turned to mine with legitimate surprise. For a split second she looked as though she was about to shuffle to the right to get out of the way. She thought I was talking to someone else. Upon the realization that I was looking at her, she began to tear up, glossing her hazel eyes with a slight glint.
"Oh. Thank you...... that just made my day." Her smile radiated outward and her stature changed.
As I walked away, although I felt a bit odd (being that I am socially shy) there was a sense of joy from seeing that a simple observation such as that could have such an impact on someone.
I challenge everyone to give a stranger a compliment today. Practice seeing the beauty, attractiveness and luster that is around you, in others. Reach out and use your voice to make a small but significant statement. When you get home, look in the mirror and do the same for yourself.
Nat
It kind of makes sense if you think about it. A credit card is abstract. All we have to do is swipe it, no matter if it is $5 or $5000. We get the bill at the end of the month and THAT is when we have to pay. 
