Up Top.

The morning after the night before, I stop at my local petrol station for yet another chore on my boring adult list of things to do and get. I am over-tired and under-hydrated. If only my friends weren’t so damn fun- maybe I’d have some self-discipline to leave before last orders on a school night. It’s all their fault. Except, who am I kidding- I’m an instigator. 

Too engrossed in self-pity, I fail to hear what the cashier says and mindlessly point my phone at the card machine, assuming what she wants is my money. But she’s not ready for payment yet; she’s just staring at me smiling, and I legit look behind me to see if she’s talking to someone else when she repeats, “your skin is glowing”.

Normal people would say thank you and walk away, but since I am incapable of receiving a compliment, especially one I don’t think is warranted because I can still taste the late-night burger in my mouth and feel everything but ‘glowy’, I tell her she’s mad and volunteer last night’s escapades. She, in return, doubles down to say I must look so damn good because I must be so damn happy. Something about my heart beaming from the inside out.

I don’t know about that, but I do know I’ve been using a new eye serum, and if I’m hearing this right, this is a clear indication that my carefully crafted beauty regimen is yielding results. I would have climbed across the counter to hug her if it wasn’t for one of those anti-Covid plastic screens. Instead, I thank the kind stranger, pay an excessive amount for my petrol, and go about the rest of my menial tasks.

Most people wouldn’t take these interactions to heart and forget about such things the minute they got back in the car. But as hard as it is for me to admit out loud, I just needed a ‘well done’ today- well, any day, really.

I don’t know when this desperate need for validation of my basic achievements came about. Maybe I’m envious of my child’s impressive collection of medals and laminated certificates for things like (and I quote) ‘being amazing during the nativity performance’. Even as the proudest parent in the church, I don’t know if what I witnessed was amazing or could be classified as anything more than average. I, for one, think it far more amazing that I got this performer to school on time, in the correct, clean uniform, with hair and teeth brushed, shoes on and completed homework. Not to mention, took the car for a service, hustled a discount on new tyres, negotiated my way out of complicated contract terms, got my eyebrows did, and unloaded the dishwasher. Surely, this warrants at least a high five. And a high five is all I really want. Anything more serious and praise-y is up there with compliments- cannot handle, therefore brush off.

Hit me up if you feel the same- I just ordered a laminating machine and have easy access to crayons. I reckon that even with my U grade in A-Level Art, I can make a fridge-worthy certificate for your adulting efforts.