Introduction to Future Posts

Who knows how to take a compliment? In all seriousness. I am always amazed by people who receive adulations and compliments and just say, “thank you”, as though they know this to be true about themselves. Confidence, self assurance, all those things that are so attractive. Part of me thinks perhaps they put on a good act. Or they may have been raised to know that they were exceptional.

I happen to hate compliments. Especially about my looks. In fact, I hate people looking at me. In fact, don’t look at me.

This is partly the product of growing up different, never fitting in with what was ‘normal’, raised in Canada but in a Chilean household, that kid whose family put avocado on everything, including breakfast toast and hot dogs, who ate whole artichokes, and cow’s tongue (seen it at the butcher’s? appetizing), whose parents spoke English funny, the girl with her hair cut short like a boy, who didn’t have much, whose parents did nothing like anyone else’s parents (while everyone else’s parents were listening to Helen Reddy, Anne Murray, Billy Joel or the Little River Band, I’d bring friends home after school to my mom either blasting Chilean protest music, or, for whatever reason, Harry Belafonte. I was befuddled by being the only child who knew such lyrics as ‘Ma-til-da, she take me money and run Vene-zue-la!’) – but oh yes, I did have a sense of humour.

So, always, I was the funny one, or outrageous one. The one who’d always take a dare, and try to get away with stuff. Try to distract everyone from the fact that I would never be normal like they were. My friends were all the cute, pretty girls, with their blond curls and enormous blue eyes. Me, I was the funny one who would do things you’d never expect. Always getting into trouble, at home and at school. The first person who ever thought I was beautiful was my dad. And I didn’t even believe him. The next person who called me beautiful was my first boyfriend. But I did believe him.

Don’t get me wrong, I had no self-esteem issues, I simply knew what my order was in the world. Try to make them laugh, or at worst, exasperate them with the insistence.

Too many thoughts running through my head now, and to avoid starting on one topic and ending on another (you’re welcome, Bev!), I’m going to be organized and separate the topics I’m preambling into 4 posts:

  1. The Ones Who Got Away
  2. Daddy Issues?
  3. Trying To Be Perfect
  4. Don’t Do As I Do – Do As I Say.

You’ll see what I mean after I’ve posted them. Forgive the self-indulgence (what is this, an autobiography? Why?) – I realize it will probably only be interesting to me. And probably my mom. And now, I’m gonna have to post – because I always do what I say!

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Comments

  1. good one V – you are a natural that’s for sure and you do have a good sense of humour because even as I’m typing this, I’m smiling !!

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