March 19, 2012
For my 171st act of love, I told you this: “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?” “Why?” you asked. “Because they’re so beautiful!”
I want to tell you, again, that I think you’re more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen or known. If I don’t tell you that often, I’m sorry.
PS: Maybe you were right to want that raincoat for our oldest: it rained Saturday and Sunday here. Looks like the joke’s on me.
March 2, 2012
In response to your suggestion (command?) that I make my comments about your beauty more specific, I wrote you this note for my 155th act of love:
I love your hair, with its soft feel and pleasant smell. It flows elegantly across your shoulders and adorns your head like a crown.
PS: How’s that for specific?
Initially, I wanted to make my act into a joke, by perhaps giving a specific description of the beauty of your elbows (they are gorgeous!). However, though you take jokes well, you may not have taken too kindly to that one since your suggestion that I be more specific was serious.
Also, I feel sheepish about the comment I did make, since it seems sappy and feels unnatural to say, though it’s true.
February 28, 2012
I actually forgot to commit an act for you on Sunday. So I committed my 151st act of love on Monday morning.
A few days ago, we were watching something on our laptop when you told me that I never tell you you’re pretty. (“Never” in your language means “not often.” We would’ve fought much less over the years had I learned that as a newlywed.) This really irritated me, though I don’t think I showed it. I began to think of all that I do for you through 365* and was even tempted to show you the blog. Then, I calmed down and said, “I think I tell you you’re pretty quite a bit, but I’ll work on saying it more.” You then said that in addition to not often telling you that you’re pretty, I’m not specific enough when I do. You said I should mention what features of yours I think are pretty.*
After thinking over your comment some more, I realized you were right: I don’t often tell you you’re pretty and I don’t make my compliments about your beauty specific. So on Monday, I wrote “You’re beautiful” (and some variations of that) on 10 different notecards and placed them in various spots around the house. The trouble is, I forgot to follow your advice about being specific. You noticed. I’ll try to work on that, honey dear.
Thanks for voicing your criticism. Though I didn’t like hearing it at first, it’s good to know what I can do to improve. Also, it’s good that you’re open enough with me that you can tell me what it is about me or the way I act that’s bothering you.
*This was one of the dangers of 365 that I mentioned in an earlier post. I want 365 to be a free gift to you rather than leverage for me.
*Your comments weren’t out of the blue, but quite called for given the context of our conversation, which I didn’t reproduce here.
October 27, 2011
The other day you told me that you have a recurring dream in which I tell you you’re not the most beautiful person I know. It takes place at a party where I keep talking to other girls instead of you. When you ask me why I’m talking to them, I tell you that they’re prettier than you. Wow! Here’s something you need to know–the man in your dream is an impostor. Next time you see him, ask him a question that only I would know the answer to. I bet he’ll walk away flustered. When you told me about your dream, I responded with a joke (oops!). I guess that wasn’t the reaction you wanted. So, today I actually did something to assure you that I think you’re the most beautiful girl I know. I wrote you a letter praising your beauty and sent it to you in the mail. I can’t wait to see your reaction when you get that letter.
October 24, 2011
Lately, you’ve been exhausted because of our newborn, so yesterday I chose an act that would give you some rest and rejuvenation–I watched the kids with my brother while you went out with my sister-in-law to get a pedicure. You seemed to enjoy yourself because you came back giddy and glowing. On top of that, you gave me a warm, intimate hug and thanked me for letting you go. Just seeing and experiencing you that way made me feel happy and refreshed. Your french tips look great, by the way. They complement your natural beauty.