I was only praised for being bright and making good grades, and playing musical instrument. Nobody told me I was beautiful. My mom gave me a backhanded compliment: "You're pretty when you're fixed up." She thought that meant makeup, and to her, being a young adult in the 1940s, that meant red lipstick and nothing else but eyebrow pencil. Think Joan Crawford. Very unnatural look, and no foundation, no eye makeup, nothing for the dark circles or the spots. I would spend twenty minutes doing my face and she would say "DON'T YOU HAVE ANY LIPSTICK?"
When we moved into our house, which was my grandparents' house previously, my husband found a large 11 x 17 studio portrait that was taken of me and I had given it to my grandmother. It was taken in the early 1980s when I was in law school in my 20s. None of those other future lawyers wanted to date me. They wanted a tall, thin, blonde trophy wife, not competition.
My husband was absolutely flabbergasted. He told me that picture of me was the most gorgeous brunette he had ever seen.