What To Say?

Today before my lounge server came in, I got a table with an older gentleman. We're talking literally old enough to be my father, at least. After I took his order, he said to me, "You know, you are an exceptionally pretty lady."

"Well, thank you," I said (lightly, I hope). "Actually, thank my parents. I didn't really have anything to do with it."

That is generally my standard response when someone says that to me. Because to me, it means pretty much nothing when a stranger tells me they like the way I look. It's so forward and impersonal. I feel differently when I catch someone looking at me -- to me, it's more suave and subtle, and I appreciate it more than a declaration. Even better is when someone laughs at something funny I just said. Really, laughing at my stupid jokes will get you a lot further with me than complimenting me on how I look.

And there was also the fact that this gentleman has no idea who I am. I'm calling him a gentleman because he called me a lady -- but frankly, I don't think the word "lady" describes me all that well. And I meant what I said about not having anything to do with it. I don't wear a bunch of makeup -- Bare Minerals for my skin, a little bit of shadow and mascara for my eyes. And I pluck my eyebrows and wash (and brush) my hair and my face regularly. But really, that's the extent of my self-maintenance. I really can't helped that he liked my parents' genes.

It's funny, too, because this is the first blog I've felt kind of uncomfortable writing. I think it makes me uncomfortable that certain people will judge me based on my looks and let me know that I passed. That's how I feel about it, anyway. Their words are not something that make me proud of myself.

Here's something stupid that does make me proud of myself: Last week at Chili's I made an awesome pun. It was terrible, of course -- it was a pun -- but that was part of its zingy charm. I was sitting in the office with one of the managers, another server and D, who was waiting for me to check out. The manager in question has been talking for some time about getting a puppy, and we were talking about names. She said she had always thought that Karma was a good name for a dog.

"You would be getting a female dog, though, right?" I asked. (I'm sure some of you can see this one coming.)

"I don't know, why? You think Karma isn't a male dog's name?"

"Well," I said, "everyone knows that Karma's a bitch."

If you laughed at that stupid joke, know that you just warmed my heart a little in a way that the old gentleman at Table 75 never could.