We have always stood by the principle that a compliment isn't a true compliment if everything is a compliment. If I always look incredible and my dinners are amazing and delicious 100% of the time, how do I ever know when it's actually true and when it is just flattery? How can I learn to avoid those unflattering tops and never make that unfavorable crockpot goulash again?
We both have done well under this seaming unkind but almost always smile, giggle, or at least eye-roll-inducing honesty. I really do prefer to know the truth rather than never quite know if he is being honest or trying to spare my feelings.
But lately, I find myself wanting to re-examine and, perhaps, re-define our policy on honesty. As my age increases, my youthful beauty and ability to handle less-than-positive remarks about it are decreasing, and I find myself thinking, "Did you really have to be quite that honest with me? Really? You think the reason we have no decent pictures of me at all is because I don't know how to wear make-up and I might benefit from false eyelashes? Did that really have to be said and why are you so surprised that I prefer to read my book tonight instead of... well, other things?
I am sure I am just as guilty as he, or perhaps his skin has not begun to thin yet. At least with physical appearance issues, as long as he doesn't begin to loose hair or gain extra pounds, he won't deal with problems like this for quite some time, if ever. He will probably always wear his spandex for running and always think they look good, even in the decades to come, I suspect.
