When you lose someone, whether in a relationship or in death, you don’t lose them once. You lose them over and over, every time you hear that song, every time you pass your favourite place you used to go to, every time you reread or listen to an old message. Sometimes the mourning never ends.
You ever have a compliment that just sticks with you for literal years and years? Maybe forever?
For me, it’s when I was working as a figure model for art classes at my university (because it paid well due to being an early-morning thing and was easy to get because nobody else wanted to apply due to the near-nakedness and pervasive body image issues in our culture). There was this one professor who was always so happy when I showed up as the female model for that day because he said that I had a “good sense of motion”, and it was fun to draw. (Which, in itself, was a great compliment because I am a clumsy, self conscious person.)
But what really got me was one day we were doing 15-minute poses, which are harder to do because you need to come up with something interesting and dynamic, but you have to be able to hold it for a quarter of an hour without moving even a little bit. They didn’t have any specific guidance for us, so I just... did something. Idk. But about five minutes into wandering around helping the students and talking to them, he paused and told me that I was doing a good job, and, “What a fun pose. You’re reminding me of Rodin’s ‘Eve,’ there. You always have a very Rodin sort of energy about you. Thanks for waking up early for us.” And then just went back to discussing the use of ink with one of the students like he hadn’t almost reduced me to tears.
Then I went home and looked up Rodin’s ‘Eve’ and was blown away because she actually did look like me? I had ended up in that pose almost exactly just by chance, but she also had a soft, squidgy tummy and the hip dips and weird butt and big feet and thunder thighs and strong calves, just like me.
And I don’t have a great relationship with my body. Very much the opposite. I frequently hate the way I look and fit into it, but then occasionally from the depths of the past comes the voice of an art nerd telling me I’m like a Rodin sculpture, and I feel like, “Yeah, I have Rodin Energy so suck it, brain!” And it helps me reframe the way I’m thinking about myself because I can get outside of my head for a minute and see that while I’m frustrated with my body, it has an art to it just by existing. Soft tummy? Fun to draw, nice curves! Big thighs? Strong lines! Dimples and wrinkles and slopes become a place for light to sit. Bodies are so cool, and that includes mine! Even if it’s not quite what I want it to be, it’s still a work of art that nature sculpted just for me.
And for him it just seemed like such an off-handed, normal, natural thing to say. He thought “Hey, that looks like Rodin,” and so he said it.
Just... Idk. Compliment people. Say what’s on your mind. You have no idea whether it’s going to totally change a person’s life. It’s just words to you but it could be really, deeply important to them.
oh the heartbreak of a small, gay, and friendless middle schooler on a road trip, who can devour 500 page novels in single sittings, faced with the cruelty and callousness of a universe where reading in a moving vehicle will give you motion sickness
Drew this comic about a year ago now, wow - time flies! I'm currently on a trip so I thought I'd sprinkle a few older comics through my update schedule for a couple of weeks just to give myself a rest. Whenever I post an older comic I'm often told that a good portion of the followers have never even seen it before. Have you read this one before? It seems that when you have a baby in the family, you develop lightning speed reflexes to constantly catch them from face-planting into things. My dad definitely has those reflexes after three kids and many grandchildren.