By local standards I am expected to view a complement to my attractiveness as the highest of complements while also keeping the attractiveness in check so as to prevent myself from falling victim to sluty-ness. But to be honest I only stubbornly accept these complements knowing that all other facets of my character will wither in the shadow of my appearance, no matter how plain that picture may be.
The bottom line is this: from the start, the only complement girls are ever given from strangers is how fucking cute they are. Not that I have always been an adorable little princess but I don’t think it would be too much to ask, that if I start flashing my lexicon, talking about the books I’m currently reading, or the volunteer work I partake in, or the multiple jobs I maintain, you could fondle my intellectual clitoris a little instead of opting to comment on my pretty fucking face.
