Sometimes, out on the street, people look at me funny.
I try not to take it amiss. I give them the benefit of the doubt. Because I know that everyone gets looked at funny from time to time. And I also know, rationally, that the bitchface they're making probably has nothing to do with me.
Maybe they were thinking contemptuous thoughts about someone else and my face just got in the way.
Maybe their pantyhose just shifted, binding their legs together.
Maybe their balls are itchy. Maybe they have crabs. Who can say?
Still, no one likes to be sneered at, regardless of the reason. In more insecure times, I would obsess over any rude look that came my way and used those sour stares as reasons to never wear a bathing suit or eat ice cream outside. HA ha! Clearly THOSE days are over.
Now, I simply wait until the person has passed by. And then, behind their back, I make "The Face".
While I'd like to take a photo of my face while I'm making "The Face", I'm afraid modesty forbids it. But I can tell you that "The Face" looks exactly like a combination of these:
"The Face" to me is like saying "Madam, I do not care for the look you just gave me." or "Fuck you and your bitchface! If my fuzzy legs offend you, DON'T LOOK DOWN!"
"The Face" only takes a second, it greatly relieves the feelings and no one gets hurt. Except sometimes me, when I go into it too fast and strain my neck.
So I was coming home from walking the dog today and there was a lady in her middle years leaving our building. I have seen her before and, as usual, I smiled and said "Hi there!" in a pleasant tone. She looked at me like I had taken a dump and rubbed it around.
Now, as I say, who knows what horrors this woman happened to be contemplating when I stumbled into her orbit? World hunger? A run in her stocking? The crabs? It seemed like maybe it was all three at once. The point is, she made no effort to return my greeting and continued on her way.
Obviously, this was an occasion for deployment of "The Face". As she brushed by me, I kicked off the launch sequence. Halfway through my facial tick/curled lip/tongue out/one-eye-squinting manoeuvre, I realized that I was making "the face" at this woman's husband, who had exited the building seconds behind her.
HA ha! Shitballs.
Now I was in a bind. He'd heard me say "Hi there!" to his wife and then saw me make a wild, belligerent face just as I went past her. The jig was up. My pants were down. Somewhere, in the distance, a dog barked.
As my eyes relayed this info to my brain, I gasped and tried to abort "The Face". This resulted me in choking on my own saliva, turning bright red, doing the ugly cough right in his face and then rasping "Aaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaate a buuuuuuuuuuuuuuug. Aaaaaa buuuuuug!!" while wiping tears from my pink, patchy cheeks.
I don't think he bought it. I obviously didn't take a photo, but I'd say he looked like this:
I learned a hard lesson today, people. While I'm obviously content to make The Face when no one is looking, I am quick to disavow The Face the moment the manoeuvre is compromised. Clearly, if I'm going to make The Face, I should be prepared to OWN The Face. I'll be sure to keep you posted on my progress.
