My resting face is cold and abrasive. Even if I’m not thinking mean thoughts about someone, apparently my eyebrows and mouth are situated in a way that makes me look like I’m angry. This condition is called BRF, as you might already know, and the last two letters of the acronym stand for Resting Face. You can probably figure out the first.
While I do think more cynical thoughts than the average person, I don’t always mean to appear so grumpy. I’ll be listening to a friend or sitting in class, and someone will ask if I’m okay. My mom always tells me to stop pouting, even if I’m completely happy. It’s pretty awkward.
To compensate for my face, a protasis no one should ever have to use, I do strange things such as raising my eyebrows up even more, or even smiling a little bit. This results in me looking like I just got a Botox injection, or seeming like I have a good buzz on, which is not very good if I’m sitting in a 9 a.m. seminar. Plus, smiling makes my face look fat.
But then again, sometimes when walking down the sidewalk I see girls just smiling aimlessly. I can’t help but stare — like, it’s a drizzly Tuesday in between classes. There is nothing you could possibly be happy about. This is exactly the behavior that gives American girls a reputation as being fake or ditsy to other cultures. Come to think of it, I don’t really trust anyone who smiles a lot.
Sometimes giving off the impression of being standoffish works in my favor. If, for example, one of the cat-spooners in my class is going on for five pathetic minutes attempting to justify an argument, I can pretty much just glance at her and make her feel uncomfortable. In this case, though, it would be difficult to accuse me of being callous because I’m not actually saying anything – I’m literally just existing. I can get a message across in the subtlest and safest way.
And in the words of Boston politician Martin Lomasney, “Never write if you can speak, never speak if you can nod, never nod if you can wink.” I think I’m in another dimension of his philosophy: never to wink if you have a BRF.
As a side note, Lomasney, who as a political boss during the turn of the 19th century surely wasn’t corrupt at all, had his own cocktail made for him which I’d like to try this weekend. It’s called a Ward 8: rye whiskey, lemon and fresh-squeezed orange juice, grenadine, a cherry and even a miniature Massachusetts flag (thanks, Wikipedia!).
I didn’t have class on Friday, so I decided to go out on Thursday night, something I’ve been cutting back on doing. These two unattractive guys started talking to my friend and me, and then offered to buy us drinks, so we humored them and allowed them to do so. Luckily for me, they had a third friend waiting at the bar whom I found moderately attractive, so I just occupied myself with him for the rest of the night (unfortunately, my friend was stuck talking to the two other ones).
He told me that he was surprised at my friendliness, as I looked a little aggressive at first. He admitted he was even intimidated, which made me think less of him since I was half his size. I explained that I have BRF and really am a nice person, but for some reason just look pissed off all the time. His words, however, did make me think about why people don’t talk to me sometimes when I’m out.
I think too much about my clothing choice or hair to the point that I don’t seem like I’m having fun — a horrible way to find a husband. Still, though, smiling if I don’t think something is funny makes me feel idiotic.
I don’t have a good way to solve this issue and don’t plan on trying to find one. I really just don’t care. If people are intimidated by how someone is looking at them, they are weak and should reconsider living in Boston. Like, this isn’t the South.
There is really no incentive to impress people who are too easy to talk to. If they always give someone a super positive reaction to something, the power of this behavior diminishes quickly. A small yet encouraging smile from a professor who usually looks miserable is much more satisfying than excessive compliments from one who is too approachable.
Anyhow, I’m just going to hope I don’t offend too many people this week.
Sydney L. Shea is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences Ancient Greek and Latin. She can be reached at slshea@bu.edu.
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