The Curse
of RBF
It is said
that most of our communication is non-verbal.
What we see when we look at someone—especially for the first time—even
before they speak—determines our attitude towards them and our willingness to
listen carefully, put up a defense, or dismiss altogether. First impressions are lasting.
If this is true, I’m in trouble.
First, I have
blue eyes and poor vision. Blue eyes
have less melanin, less color cells, less protection from bright lights. And although I go to the optometrist regularly
and wear my bifocals faithfully, I squint a lot. Squinting doesn’t lend to a pretty face. I’ve squinted since I was a child—there are
photos to prove it. In one, I am a
blond-haired, blue-eyed four year old hugging a cat and looking at the camera. On my face is that classic distorting squint
that encompasses all of my face muscles.
I even earned the nickname “Squint” in high school. Granted, it was after I was in a roll-over
car accident and got a concussion and black swollen eye, but still.
Second, when
I’m concentrating, I unintentionally chew on the inside of my cheek. It must be genetic, because my
great-grandmother did the same thing. My
mom would see me concentrating with my jaw churning, and she’d say, “Gotta hold
your mouth right, huh?” I don’t do this
consciously. I’ve noticed I grimace at
even the smallest of uncomfortable issues—like lifting heavy things off the
floor (okay, heavy for me is 5 pounds!), putting my socks on when my body is
sore, combing out tangles in hair….you get it.
But most of all, the thing that affects me the most:
I have a resting bitch face (E calls it RBF).
When I am not
visibly emoting, my face rests in such a way that I look pissed off and
mean. I’m not grumpy, I’m just not
smiling all the time. This is something
E AND my boss have not caught onto yet.
Since I am quite expressive and downright manic at times, people
evidently get used to my bounciness. But
I can’t be wide-eyed, eyebrow-raised, grinning all the time. Sometimes I just want to relax. Or I’m thinking, but not angry. I don’t intend to look irked—my face just
rests naturally that way.
When E says,
“What’s the matter?” and insists I’m mad, dismissive, or annoyed—THAT is what
pisses me off. Don’t get me wrong—I have
my angry, pouty, bitchy moments. Quite a
few of them, actually. And when I’m
truly pouting or sad, I do like someone to acknowledge it and try to remedy my
sour mood. But I do believe, as a
naturally erratic personality, it won’t be much of a guessing game when I’m
actually, truly in a bad mood.
In my
professional world, I’m very serious and almost stoic. I’ve tried being light-hearted or more
relaxed, but it just doesn’t always happen.
Perhaps it’s because I’m a female in a male-dominated profession, and
many people are still biased enough that I need to work hard to be taken as
seriously as my male counterparts.
Perhaps it’s because I concentrate with determination. Perhaps it’s because I am temperamental, and
afraid that, if left naturally to my own devices, I’ll do or say something
extreme that will leave a scar so big it shows years later. That’s happened before, especially during my
manic phases—I become so obsessed with something and I react in the extreme to
even the smallest things that it just isn’t funny. It’s exasperating!
E says I feel
things more strongly than others. Some
doctors say many of those diagnosed with manic depression (that’s me!) have
obsessive tendencies. Whatever it is, I
have to keep myself in catch more so than the average person, and it must show
on my face. And I’ve become so good at
it and done it for so long, that, even though I don’t go to extremes anymore
(hopefully mellowing out in my old age….), I still suppress the emotions that
go with my ups and downs.
So the next
time you see me—or anyone else that has a bitch face on—and think we’re having
a bad day or someone’s got the best of us or we aren’t happy with our
lot—remember to ask first. Those first
impressions aren’t always correct. Never
assume.
Julie Soaring Eagle Paschold
October 12, 2017