Beautiful as Always

Years ago in Berlin, I had a small group of friends who spent a considerable amount of time together. Berlin winters nights were long and dismal, where it rarely snowed, but "chilled to the bone" was still a reality, and the continually overcast skies made you understand that seasonal depression was more than just hype. Until the trees started budding in mid-May and outdoor cafes sprung to life amid 10 p.m. sunsets, we were drawn to the cozy confines of our small tenement house apartment kitchens for long candlelight dinners or to one of the many bars or pubs that dotted our neighborhood, which had become the desired neighborhood for young people of any nationality ever since the wall came down.

Conversations were always lively, highly intellectual (so we liked to think) and often political. My friend Mimi and I had landed in Germany eager for a year of teaching German school students English on September 11, 2001. We quickly realized that this where-were-you-when-Kennedy-was-shot-like day in history would define our entire time in a country whose citizens are politically astute and have the typical love-hate relationship with Americans - love the people, hate the politics.

Of course I don't remember all that we talked about during those long nights, but a few things stand out in my memory. Mimi and I passionately talked with our hands and this became somewhat dangerous with wine glasses in hand. And defying logic, the wine only seemed to increase Mimi's appetite for an intellectual conversation. Any time my brother or I told a story about our mother, we always imitated the dialogue with one voice - a squawk - because that's how her voice (or yelling at us for misbehaving in one way or another) sounded in our heads, even if we would admit that's not what she actually sounded like. Everyone thought this was hilarious, until Peter pointed out that Barbara also had a one-size-fits all voice for characters in her stories - a deep, kind of dumb-sounding voice she used to imitate any male she was talking about, whether it was her dad or "some dumb jock." A triple major in college and a PhD candidate, Peter pleaded with her not to inadvertently cast men all in the same light with her "accent."

The conversations could go on for hours, and many were, probably, alcohol infused. So I have funny and warm memories of how we talked, but really only one conversation of any memorable content actually stands out.

I don't remember what precipitated the wisest piece of advice I've ever heard a man give about women, (and most of the advice I've heard over the years has been misinformed, inaccurate or just plain absurd) but late one night in an Irish pub, Peter turned to my brother, Scott, the only other male in our group, and told a story about one of his sisters.

Both were quite a few years old than he, and one of them, a high schooler at the time, was getting ready for a date, while Peter, only a middle schooler who still didn't understand yet what the big deal was about dating, was thrust into the role of wardrobe critiquer. The sister would reappear from her room in a series of dresses and Peter did as he was instructed and told her what he thought. As I remember, he thought she looked fine in everything she tried on, but tried to offer some constructive criticism (mind you, constructive, most likely, in the mind of a middle-schooler) and in her nervousness over her date and frustration in not finding an appropriately flattering outfit, tears ensued.

Peter finished his story with one line of advice, "Scott, I learned, the answer is ALWAYS 'Beautiful as always.'"

The line was the most neutral catch-all ever and after years of use, had yet to land him in trouble. He evolved from bratty little brother to being adored by his sisters, and in later years found that the line worked equally well with female friends, as well as love interests. He could be a charmer without being slimy, or a flirt without being a flirt. He knew the difference between "honesty is the best policy" and when someone really isn't looking for your honest opinion. Meanwhile, the line dodges any landmine questions guys hate being asked and still delivers an acceptable response. It can even be a filler during awkward greetings when most men end up putting their feet in their mouths for lack of anything else to say.

What do you think of me in this outfit? Beautiful as always!

Did you notice my new haircut? Beautiful as always!

If you haven't seen someone in awhile and you think that she looks different, but you can't guess what it is, or aren't even sure how you feel about the new look, don't offer a guess or even a lukewarm opinion. Keep it simple. If you think, "Hi, how are you? You look great!" is overused, then "Beautiful as always" should be the only other line out of your mouth. If you're lucky, she may even provide the answer for you. "Thank you. Finally someone noticed that I lost a few pounds! All that time at the gym has paid off."

A fine line exists between patronization and flattery, but when delivered with a tone of sincerity, you can't go wrong.

Back when I knew Peter, pregnancy was far from my mind and I hadn't considered how well the line also works with pregnant women. In a friendly, non-sexualized way, it acknowledges the physical beauty of a person who, oddly enough, has become de-sexualized.

I'm convinced even the most self-confident of women become self-conscious about their bodies during pregnancy. The first few months are especially difficult because you're gaining weight and don't look pregnant, and early on, you probably haven't even announced your pregnancy yet, so you may be more paranoid that friends or co-workers think you're "letting yourself go." Even when you start to show, which becomes a blessing, you're still gaining weight elsewhere, and if you're particularly unlucky, your face, hands and feet start to swell. Maintaining a healthy physique, growing belly aside, is an uphill battle against hormones that wreak havoc on your appetite and zap you of any remaining will power to exercise.

Even at 27 weeks and supposedly past the phase nausea, few foods are actually satisfying and what I do eat ends up making me feel uncomfortably full, and that fullness just makes me feel heavy and fat. Sure, great clothes can make you feel better about yourself. Thus, one friend's only piece of advice upon learning I'm pregnant was to tell me to buy one pair of really awesome jeans. Peter's sister's date could have been a disaster, but if she had found a dress she thought she looked awesome in, her attitude would probably have been, "His loss," and not "Why does no guy like me?" Even I, who is admittedly not fashion savvy and dislikes shopping, believes that clothes can be comforting. I take consolation in the fact that I've found some maternity clothes that are comfortable and more or less fit, (if just there'd be a larger line of petite size maternity clothes) but nothing I own makes me feel awesome or even sexy. I did find a pair of ultra hip jeans at a Grand Avenue boutique called Hot Mama, but at $218, I wasn't going to pay that much for awesome.

I'm aching to hear beautiful as always.

With my self esteem only being buoyed by an incredibly supportive husband and an eager anticipation of becoming a mother no matter what the sacrifices, imagine how you would react to being greeted with "Hello, fat girl," or an order to "Move over chubby" when you're pregnant. The well-meaning jokster thinks, hee hee, how funny, she's not chubby, she's hardly showing. Meanwhile, even though I know it's a joke and the person doesn't really think I look fat - just pregnant - my heart still sinks because I really am feeling chubby and if I'm feeling chubby at 18 weeks, how do you think I'm going to feel at 39 weeks? Behind the exuberant pregnancy facade there's my husband who knows how nerve-wracking being weighted at the doctor's office is, because I'm concerned I've gained too much weight, or the friend who stood patiently outside the changing room at the Gap while I tried on multiple pairs of pants (two sizes larger than my normal size) and nearly cried because I couldn't find anything flattering and I was bitter for having to spend the time and money on bigger clothes.

Ask me all you want about pregnancy and I'll happily talk your ear off for hours. But keep the unflattering commentary on my body to yourself. I know it's just a line, but "beautiful as always" will flatter me every time.