January 24, 2007~~9:15 p.m.
Compliments in the kitchen...

On Saturday morning... maybe it was Sunday.... Anyway, one of the mornings last weekend, I walked up to the husband, who was working on something in the kitchen, to give him a kiss. Afterwards, he looked at me for a second and then said, "You're pretty."

Okay, I thought. That's a nice thing to hear from the guy you've lived with for the last twenty years, especially when he's the sort of guy who doesn't really say those things because he just trusts that it would be obvious that he would find someone attractive if he had chosen to live with that person for the last twenty years.

The problem is that after that encounter, I went in to the bathroom to straighten my hair and noticed in the mirror that, while I didn't look like crap, I didn't really look that great either. My hair was wonky. I didn't have on any mascara. Honestly, I didn't look at all like *me*. And while I am not the best taker of compliments in general, I do, at least, know when they seem... misguided.

I know that there are people who would counter my pondering with arguements about natural beauty and not needing make-up or whatever. And, yes, certainly there are people who prefer the look of an unadorned face. But this is the man who married me. If he were attracted to *that* sort of woman, he wouldn't have chosen one who is made-up 365 days a year (366 if it's leap-year).

So I'm left feeling, why now? Why, out of all of the days of the year did he choose this one to acknowledge my attractiveness?

Am I overthinking this? Probably..... but that's what I do. Especially *here*.

~Alice