The other day I received not one, not two but THREE compliments all in the course of a morning. Considering that I rarely get three compliments in a year (apart from ones from DH) this was certainly noteworthy. Earth shattering, in fact.

Now for all those beautiful twenty-somethings reading my blog, this may not seem like a big deal. But to someone who has in all likelihood passed the halfway mark of their allotted lifespan (even given that my paternal grandmother lived to almost ninety-nine years of age), this is a BIG deal.

It wasn't as if I'd even made a greater effort than usual: a red and tan floral skirt, a knitted cotton cropped cardigan, my hair up in a top knot much higher than I usually wear it (and it hurt like crazy after the first hour so I probably won't try that again), minimal make-up (if any), and sensible sandals that are comfy for work but not the type that make your legs look absolutely fabulous.

I think it was the hair that did it. Someone even went so far as to tell me that it changed my face shape completely. They made it sound like that was a good thing. Hmmm.

Funny thing is, I didn't think I looked any different to usual. It was almost as if there was some kind of conspiracy going on - some psychology experiment to see if the almost-fifty-year-old-woman-with-the-sensible-shoes-and-the-grey-hair would suddenly turn into a fashion plate if she received enough compliments.

Sadly, it's not going to happen. I blame it on having spent the majority of my life in a male dominated household. They shower, shave, cut their hair when it gets in their eyes/nose/mouth (or shave it off, too), change their clothes when necessary, and generally are ready to face the world in less time than their female counterparts.

When they were little, my sons never thought it was fun to play with my makeup or perfume or hair stuff. My granddaughters, on the other hand, are in my room and experimenting with all my hair ties, pins, oils, lip balms, makeup, and whatever they can find before anyone has even noticed that they're missing.

Surely it must be a gender thing. I'm just hoping that in a few years they'll have figured out how to use all this stuff and can teach me. And then perhaps I can expect at least three compliments every year!


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