Yeah. You know the one. 

The one cemented onto the face of someone you’ve vaguely known since elementary school. 

The one that stares holes into the back of your head in the grocery store aisle when you forget to slide the bar in between your order and theirs. 

The face.

As someone who suffers from looking like the meanest person in the world while my face is at rest, I regret to say that if you suffer from it too, it’s likely terminal. People are going to assume you’re plotting WWIII just because you zoned out too hard and don’t know how to make your face look any less actively aggrieved.

I see you. I stand with you. It sucks.

What sucks even worse is that despite having resting facial expressions that make me look like Ebenezer Scrooge for all twelve months of the year, I can’t tell when other people are battling the face too. 

I jump to the same conclusions as anyone else: ‘oh, she hates me for sure’ or ‘do I need to tie my hair up? Is someone waiting for me in the parking lot?’ When the reality of the situation is that they’re either not very expressive, or have just been put into conditions for several years that make the face feel natural.

Personally, I come from a long line of face-makers. The same people who tell me ‘fix your face’ and ‘it’ll get stuck that way if you keep this up’ suffer from the same fate as I do. Its generational longevity is impressive, honestly.

Now, I do maintain a few theories about the origins of the face.

Theory #1: You’re more likely to experience the side effects of the face if people are regularly on your nerves, or you have participated in long term extracurricular activities that could pile onto your stress.*

* This also counts for anyone working a 9-5 in customer service, fast food, or retail. If you have managed to sustain any of these career paths without developing the face, you are entitled to financial compensation.

Theory #2: If you spend more time thinking than speaking, you may reserve your more emotive expressions for actual conversations. It almost feels like a chore to change your facial expression. For the past few years I’ve attempted to combat the resting conspirator face (RCF), and it just leaves me looking wide-eyed and confused—like a child who just fell and isn’t sure if they should cry or not—as opposed to calm and approachable.

Now if you suck at tone control like I do, it is really game over, because now people can’t tell when you’re joking or if you hate them or not. If I’m not actively amused, I seem extremely judgmental.

It kind of hurts to know that how I look at one moment in time is what people will use to perceive me forever. What’s even worse is that I will do the same thing to someone else, knowing how often this happens to me. 

This past weekend, I went to a color guard event that brought together guard members of various teams from all over the DFW and surrounding area, and I immediately judged certain people based on their facial expressions, only to be proven wrong throughout the day.

The only way to truly know if someone is as mean as they look is to talk to them consistently. You could be right, but they could be playing Instagram reels on loop in their heads and suffer from this affliction. Don’t be afraid to reach out to anyone you see suffering from the face.

And don’t tell them to smile more. I promise that only intensifies their condition.