I Was Born With a Resting Bitch Face – Chapter 1 – Birth Control Face

The first time I heard the term resting bitch face, I Googled it.

Not because I didn’t understand what it meant.

I understood perfectly well what the person was implying.

I just needed Google Images to show me what exactly it looked like.

So I typed it in.

Looked at the pictures.

Oh.

Scrolled a little.

Ohhh.

Well, shit.

Apparently, I had been walking around with a resting bitch face my entire life without knowing there was a name for it.

And the worst part?

I didn’t even have to practice.

I was born with this face. It’s my default setting. Every other version requires some kind of effort, and holding a different expression for absolutely no reason feels fake and unnatural.

Don’t get me wrong.

I can smile.

I do smile.

I just don’t do it when I don’t see a reason.

And I have very specific reasons.

Reason number one: Someone is taking a picture.

I was taught to smile for pictures when I was little.

My family owned a camera. An actual camera. The kind you had to load with film and couldn’t immediately check whether everyone looked decent.

So when somebody pointed it at you and said, “Smile!” you smiled.

Simple.

I have a perfectly good picture smile. I’ve been practicing it since childhood.

Whether I was happy at that exact moment was completely irrelevant.

Reason number two: Friends.

I smile at my friends. At people I like. At people whose company I genuinely enjoy.

Sometimes I even laugh.

Shocking, I know.

Reason number three: My husband.

I have a smile for my husband.

Actually, I have several.

And one of them is a very different kind of smile, if you know what I mean.

Moving on.

Reason number four: My kid.

I smile at my kid.

Most of the time, it’s the tired-after-work version.

You know, when you’ve spent the whole day dealing with people, you’re driving home thinking about everything you still have to do, and then you open the front door and remember to rearrange your face.

There.

Mom is home.

Mom is happy to see you.

Mom would also like approximately forty minutes of silence, but that’s not happening.

Reason number five: Customers.

I work with customers.

I have a very professional Hello! smile.

I also have a lovely You’re welcome! smile.

They’re excellent smiles.

Polite. Friendly. Completely appropriate.

I can turn them on and off like a light switch.

It’s a skill.

And I get paid to use it.

That’s probably it.

Five reasons.

Not bad, considering how often people seem to expect a smile.

The rest of the time?

Resting bitch face.

Or, as I prefer to call it, my birth control face.

Because where I grew up, smiling at strangers for no particular reason could be interpreted as an invitation.

A green light.

And that’s absolutely not the message I want to send.

Now, I’m not saying everyone where I come from thinks that way. I’m telling you how I learned to behave, what felt normal to me, and why I never questioned it.

You don’t smile at someone just because they happen to be standing in front of you.

You smile because you want to.

And if you don’t?

Well, you still have a face.

Mine just happens to look like it has already made a decision about you.

It probably hasn’t.

I’m most likely thinking about dinner.

Or absolutely nothing.

Which, apparently, is intimidating.