The Ugly Duckling...

I have discovered something about myself.  Well, in truth, I have known this about myself for many years, but I've only just analyzed it.  I am very uncomfortable with compliments about my appearance.  If you were to compliment me on my appearance, you would find that I would respond in one of the following ways:

1.  "Thanks."  *blush and laugh nervously*
2.  "Pssshhhhh."  *make a face and wave hands as if to wave away the compliment*
3.  "Thanks; I know, I'm awesome."  *make cheesy face and ham it up as if actually conceited, then laugh*

Why do I have such trouble accepting compliments?  Let me be perfectly honest and open-- I'm not fishing for compliments here, so don't post any-- this is just my analysis of yet another neuroses I've discovered.  Ha.  See, some girls are born pretty.  They grow up pretty, and they stay pretty.  Some girls are blessed that way, but I wasn't.  However, my cousin was.  She was always an adorable blond, and I'll never forget my aunt telling her she'd grow up to be "a heartbreaker."  I didn't realize what a heartbreaker was, but I remember wishing someone would tell me that I'd grow up to be a heartbreaker.  Some girls grow up hearing they're beautiful and knowing they're beautiful, and that's what they develop: their beauty.  It's what they're praised for, so they develop it, just as an athlete who is praised for her ability develops that ability-- you naturally develop what you're good at.

I was a perpetually chubby child with curly red hair and a face that reddened all too easily.  I didn't have beautiful, dark eyelashes framing my ambiguously colored eyes.  I had pale lashes that made me look like an albino.  I didn't have smooth, tanned skin.  I had freckles.  I wore glasses at an early age.  I had a gap between my teeth.  I had a nose too big for my face.  I had a too-pointy chin.  Don't get me wrong-- I never thought I was hideous.  I figured I was normal-looking, but not pretty.  Girls who are not pretty realize they must develop other things if they want to be accepted.  So I developed my intelligence and my humor. 

I became the smart, funny chubby girl with curly red hair and a red, freckled face with glasses.  I didn't have to be a genius though to know I wasn't one of the pretty girls, to know I wasn't one of the heartbreakers.  The pretty girls always had boys around them.  The pretty girls had nice clothes and wore makeup and did their hair.  The pretty girls were the most popular girls in school.  I had friends not because I was pretty, but because I was friendly.  There were very few boys around me, and I never really developed my looks because I knew there wasn't much to work with.  It was like trying to water a weed in hopes that it would flower into a rose.  I can't say I really minded though.  I was content.  I wouldn't have minded being pretty of course, but I knew this was the way God made me.  Besides, if we were all beautiful, life would be boring.  I was just mixing it up a bit.  In fact, the pretty girls should have thanked me!  I made them look more beautiful.

I don't remember when things changed, but at some point in my recent history, maybe when my face grew into my nose and chin, I lost most of my chubbiness, and I figured out how to tame my curly red hair and love my freckles, I started getting compliments.  And I didn't have any clue how to handle them.  My first reaction was to disagree with them.  But I found that made people uncomfortable and made it seem like I was fishing for more compliments, which was exactly what I didn't want.  Then my reaction was to choose one of the three options I listed above, but inwardly not believe them.  How could I believe them?  I'd never been pretty.  I'm still the chubby redhead with curly hair and a big nose and freckles.  Maybe they're just trying to make me feel better about the way I look.  Maybe they're just saying that.

And that's where you find me today.  The other day, a friend complimented me.  And suddenly I analyzed my instinct to not believe her.  She wouldn't lie to me, so why did I find it so hard to believe her?  I wondered if anyone else like me had similar issues.  Did other "ugly ducklings" in youth always feel like an ugly duckling?  I am a confident woman when it comes to my intellect and my wit because I was forced to develop those things in my youth.  But I may always feel insecure about my looks.  I have determined to try to graciously accept compliments without awkwardness or self depreciation, but I may never really believe them.  In my mirror, I may always see myself at twelve.  Did the real Ugly Duckling ever stop seeing himself as such and really see himself as a swan?

I'll tell you why I think my neurosis might not be such a bad thing, even if it is weird.  It's because "charm is deceitful and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised."  If I can fear the Lord, that's what will last, and that's what matters.  Who cares if I've grown into my big nose and pointed chin?  Who cares if I've shed a few pounds.  Who cares if the gap in my teeth has closed?  Someday the compliments will stop again, because wrinkles will overtake my face.  My chin will disappear into my neck.  Age spots will replace freckles.  I'll gain the shapeless form of the aged.  My hair will turn white and wiry, if it doesn't fall out.  The compliments will stop, and I'll be the ugly duckling I've always thought of myself.  But by God's grace, I'll be a woman who fears the Lord, and that is truly beautiful.