Why Some Compliments Don’t Land (And Others Stay Forever)

Compliments are weird little creatures. Some slip right through you, gone before you’ve even said thanks. Others lodge themselves in your ribcage for twenty years, like a song lyric you never asked to memorize.

And let’s be honest: not all of them are truly compliments. Some come dressed up in politeness, but underneath? A sharp little sting.

Take the “helpful” observation: “Your hair looks frizzy.”

1. Yes, I noticed.

2. It’s called humidity.

3. Why are we both standing here now, sadder than we were five seconds ago?

Then there are the social compliments, the ones you give because silence feels ruder. Someone shows you their new sweater. You don’t love it. But who cares? It’s their style, not yours. Unless they genuinely look like they’ve lost a bet, the only correct answers are: “Cute!” or “Love it!” Anything else and you risk a friendship over knitwear. Which, frankly, is not how I plan to go down in history.

But timing is everything. A compliment from a stranger can light you up for days. A missing compliment from someone you secretly like can torment you for weeks. You start to wonder: What do I need to do to be noticed? Which is absurd, of course. Self-worth shouldn’t be a scavenger hunt for external approval. But we all fall into the trap….or at least i am!

And then there are the ones that don’t just miss, they bruise.
Like my teacher at eleven telling me: “You should be a hairdresser. You’re good with your hands.” (Nothing wrong with being a hairdresser. But what she really meant was: you’re not that bright. Thank you, trusted adult, for the lifetime supply of self-doubt.)

Luckily, my parents knew better. They saw I had more in me. And after years of study, here I am: a school director, still occasionally wondering if I’m secretly dumb, but also very aware that I’m not. (Also: I own more blazers than that teacher ever did. Small victories.)

The best compliment I’ve ever received? Not about my looks, or my clothes, or even my work. It was this: “I feel calmer when you’re around.”
No frizz check. No backhand. Just presence, seen and named.

So here’s what I’ve learned: Compliments are an art form. Think before you speak. Listen twice before you respond. And when in doubt? Just say: “You look great.” It’s not rocket science.

But most of all: believe in yourself first. Then, when compliments arrive, they’re just extra sprinkles. Nice, but not the sundae.