“You are not like the other girls.”
Never say this. Those “other girls” are my friends and more. When you say that, you imply that I am more than others. I am more perfect than my mother, who raised me from a red wrinkled bunch of flailing arms. I am more desirable than my friends who are part of my large family. And I have more talents than my extraordinary sisters.
Don’t tell me that, and expect me to take it as a compliment. I won’t because it is a veiled insult. Don’t call me more, then the people who helped make me, me. Don’t call me perfect, because if that is all you see in me, then don’t bother at all. I am like other girls, and I want to be like other girls. If you want to compliment me, call me strong, brave, independent, exquisite, alluring, divine, lovely, fair, radiant, stunning, dazzling, breath-taking, enchanting, magnetic, striking etc.
Never tell me I am more than my friends, my mother, their mothers, all the wonderous people I have had the pleasure of meeting. The people who have influenced me in life when I was at my worst. So don’t call me that, if you simply want to compliment me.
Perfectly Imperfect Me 