I’m going to be honest about something that’s hard to talk about. Years ago, a close friend of mine, Joanna, handed me a bottle of fancy rinse-free hand wash right before I was on a flight. Not a gift I would have bought myself, but exactly the kind of thing I’d been quietly wanting. I nearly flipped out over it. And her response? “You’re really good at getting presents.”
I still think about that line sometimes. Not the hand wash — I used it up and it was lovely, don’t get me wrong — but the compliment. Being good at receiving gifts? That’s a really nice thing to be. It’s the kind of thing people notice, but rarely say out loud. Certainly never in a way that sticks.
Why I make a point of it
Most compliments, if I’m honest, land on the surface. “Nice haircut!” “That dress is so good on you.” “You look beautiful today.” And of course I wilt a little every time someone notices my bob, because I was genuinely nervous about getting it cut. Those words have their place and I don’t need to be about them.
But I’ve started making a point of offering compliments that aren’t about the body at all. In part it comes from where I stand on body diversity and beauty standards — I don’t want the people I love to feel they’re only seen through a mirror. But honestly? It’s bigger than that. Non-physical compliments land differently. They stick. The way an “amazing outfit” compliment never quite does, no matter how much I mean it.
It takes more thought to say something you can’t just see at a glance. You have to pay attention. And I genuinely believe our brains clock that effort. A compliment that took actual noticing feels more true than one that was easy to hand over.
The ones that actually matter
You know the moments I’m talking about. When a stranger’s dog settles right into my lap and the dog’s owner says, “You have a gift with animals.” When a mom at the park watches me bend down and get a wobbly toddler back on their feet and says, “You really put kids at ease.”
My chest tightens in the good way, every single time. Because those are the traits I never would have noticed in myself if no one had named them to me. Years later I still quietly like the idea that I’m someone who’s good at receiving gifts — not that I have to farm for them, but that I don’t have to earn my seat at the table of other people’s care. It’s a small thing. But it’s a good thing.
So here’s the practice I keep coming back to: when you notice a park-ground truth about someone — the way they make plants thrive, the way they always remember names, the way they take a friend’s low-day confessions without flinching — say it. Out loud. Specific. I promise you it’ll take nine seconds and it might take root for nine years.
Style Math: The compliment version
I’m a cost-per-wear person. I’m also, apparently, a compliment-per-relationship person. The rule I use: one true, specific, non-appearance note per real interaction. Not a compliment. An observation. “The way you handled that kitchen argument — you made my sister feel less alone” beats “great job today” every single time. I’ve found that the more I can say it with zero rehearsing, the more believable it is to the other person. So I’m only allowed to say it if I’d say it to their face.
Frequently asked
They land slower, often. You might get a “ha, really?” before the real nod. That’s fine. The first one is a seed, not a verdict. Say it anyway and let time do the work.
It’s close, but not the same. Specificity is about what you’re actually seeing. Charming their body is a part of complimenting them, but — the whole point here — it’s not the only thing, and certainly not the only thing I’ve ever seen. Pick the thread that’s actually true for the person in front of you.
Start with observation, not verdict. One fact, said warm: “You remembered I said I was tired, and you asked about it.” That’s it. You don’t need to build a card. Just notice.
A note from Lena: I used to think like a lot of people — that the best compliments are the ones you could frame: the long-haired era review, the bad-hair day oblivious compliment. I still take those. But I keep a little private stack of the less frameable ones, and every time an old friend’s specific words cross my mind I reread the whole thing out loud.
If you’ve been the recipient of a non-physical compliment that still shows up years later, I want to hear it. Drop it in the comments: what did they say, roughly when, and what have you done with it since?