6 Jul 2015
Every morning when I drop my kids at school I see the same woman (dropping her kids off too). We know each other in a smiling/saying hello kind of way, and although I wouldn’t describe her as a friend, she seems perfectly nice. As well as being friendly, she has long shiny hair, a happy disposition, and great taste in clothes. But there is one thing about her that I would dearly love to change. Every morning, without fail, she puts on so much foundation that her face is orange, and there is a pronounced, nay glaring tidemark, marching along her jawline. I desperately want to grab a brush and blend for heaven’s sake. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, right? She can’t deliberately be choosing a “tangoed” look? I’ve actually been known to pop a large makeup brush into my bag before I start the school run…….
The trouble is we aren’t friends so I feel I can’t mention it, but even if we were, I’m not at all sure that I would. It feels critical and superficial for me to pick at something so unimportant – in fact I feel rather bitchy for noticing in the first place. Not having perfect makeup during a busy school run is hardly the crime of the century (and I suspect if she were my friend, this would be the excuse I’d use for not telling her).
But what do you do about the things that are really bad and probably need to be mentioned? You know your friend would be mortified if you mentioned their persistent bad breath or body odour, but you also know it would be so much worse if they found out that it’s been going on for years and everyone knew about it. You wouldn’t want to be known locally as the woman that stinks, right? Yet for some reason the thought of actually telling a good friend something awkwardly personal fills me with horror.
Many moons ago, my boss tasked me with telling a member of our department that her outfit that day was too revealing and not appropriate for the office. It was so cringe-makingly awful that I couldn’t do it. I lied, said I’d told her when I hadn’t, and prayed fervently for weeks afterwards that she wouldn’t wear it again. Very luckily, she did not.
By way of contrast, my friend Natascha simply tells people the truth. If they are annoying, she will tell them, and although she does so nicely, she is also to the point. But then again she is German, and according to her, the Germans are a little more straightforward about this kind of thing. My BF is much the same. He is Danish and generally speaking they share the same frankness as the Germans. When I ask him if he doesn’t think he might be being a little rude, he simply looks confused, before pointing out that it isn’t rude if it is true.
Good point, but I still can’t do it.
Try as I might I cannot adopt this level of honesty; it’s just not British. So for now I am left, simpering and avoiding eye contact, every time I come across a stray bogey, lipstick on teeth, toilet roll stuck to the bottom of a shoe, or breath that could kill a cow from 60 yards away.
