Compliment?

Hey you guys.  I got dental work done, so I was down for the count for a while.  And you guys were so sweet to ask about me.  You didn’t?  My husband made that up?  He didn’t?  That was just the Percocet talking?  Oh.

Well, anyway, it made me glad I cut my hair, because worrying about hair doesn’t really go with dental work.  To me, anyway.  There may be some of you who get a bridge and a blowout.  I’m not sure I want to know you, though.

Lots of people have commented on my short ‘do.  Which I don’t mind.  But then again, lots of people have commented on my longer ‘do.  Most of which I didn’t mind.

Except that time this lady told me I looked like Tracy Chapman.

And then I realized she was serious.
And then I realized she was serious.

Here’s the deal with that.  One:  Aside from the hair, I look nothing like Tracy Chapman.  Two:  Actually, the hair looks nothing like Tracy Chapman’s, either.  But that’s not what upset me.

What upset me was that when I informed her that I have twists that are very unlike Ms. Chapman’s locs, ol’ girl got offended.  “I was just trying to pay you a compliment,” she huffed.

Here’s the deal.  It’s not that I think Tracy Chapman is unattractive.  It’s just that this chick pulled out of her brain the single black woman she knew with natural hair hand made the comparison, and then I was supposed to take it as a compliment rather than the ignorance it was.  I honestly would have been just as offended had she told me I looked like Rhianna.  Would I love to look like Rhianna?  Absolutely.  But I don’t.  I’m pretty darn cute in my own way.

At least I like to think so.
At least I like to think so.

This woman is tall, with long, dark hair and dark eyes.  Would she have taken it as a compliment if I told her she looked just like Jessica Simpson?  Nope.  She would have been extremely confused—with good reason.  The only thing they would have had in common is the hair length. That’s it.  Not hair color, not hair texture, not skin tone or teeth or height—just hair length. That would be kinda dumb, right?

I wish I could have explained this all to her.  But I didn’t have time. Or the inclination.  Because if she could look at me and see Tracy Chapman, I’m not sure there is anything I could have said that could have made her look beyond the fact that she was being so gracious in giving me a “compliment” and I had the nerve, the everlasting nerve, to shoot it down.

All because I don’t look like Tracy Chapman, and neither does my hair.

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