I’ve been smiling a lot lately. I hate it. Smiling has always made me a little uncomfortable, but it’s one of the things I appreciate so much on others. For many years, when I smile I’ve felt like the quintessential garden gnome: rosy, puffed up cheeks; a bulbous little nose; an unkempt beard; and most importantly, a round little face. I have usually opted instead for a stoic pose, which tends to look better in most photos. Looks better, but says nothing. And when I say it looks better, that isn’t to say I’ve hidden the traits that made me uncomfortable. I clearly have not.
One of the universal criticisms that I get about myself is that I am grumpy. Or sometimes people just ask me what is wrong, but I’m hardly ever having a bad day. It’s just that my face has that expression. I don’t get those comments from people I rarely see in person, so I am pretty sure it’s just a response to how my face is. I shouldn’t care, but I don’t want my mind and my face to be so different.
So, lately I’ve been smiling. And even more, I’ve been doing so while showing my teeth, which I probably stopped doing 30 years ago. It’s awkward, it’s embarrassing (yes, even by myself), but it’s something I want to overcome. I’m too old to care if people like my smile. The hardest part is remaining sincere. I can usually handle it for one or maybe two photos, but then you can see my discomfort clearly in the photo. I have to reset, smile again, mean it. It’s all a process.
[Walk #119]
