My alarm clock didn’t buzz this morning. An hour late, I sprung out of bed and rushed through my morning routine, cutting my normal process short, walking out of the house displeased with how I threw myself together. I hurried Ellie through breakfast, out the door, and down the hallways of school.
I caught glimpses of myself in the bathroom mirror at work and made that face – you know the face – not the “damn, I am lookin’ good today” face, the other one. My hair is currently 37 shades brighter than usual, falling somewhere between Ariel and Christina Hendricks (but much closer to the former than the latter).
On my way out of work someone caught me to ask a project-related question. She’s a woman I’d dismissed as a total bitch, likely because she has the same resting bitchface that I was blessed with. Following her work question, she asked if my previous job was in fashion. I snickered, because are you joking with that? My dress is five years old, I drove a nail through my belt this morning to make it fit, and you know, Ariel hair.
“You’re always so well put together,” she said “where did you learn how to do that?” I didn’t answer, because I don’t know the answer. I thanked her several times, and I should probably thank her again tomorrow, because it made my day. I was amazed as I reflected on that brief conversation, that her one comment could turn my day around. So tomorrow I’m going to try to turn a day around, by giving a simple, honest compliment. I’m going to try to do it the next day too, and I think you should join me.