I’ve Developed Resting Bitch Face with Age

home insemination Kit

As I age, I’ve noticed subtle changes in my face. Am I too old? Not quite, but those first signs of aging are creeping in. You know how I figured it out? People have started expressing genuine concern for my emotional well-being. Just yesterday, I had a few of these amusing exchanges:

Coworker Interactions

Coworker (interrupts my daydream about my ultimate celebrity crush): Good morning!
Me (sighing dreamily): Morning.
Coworker: You okay?
Me: Sure. Why? (Is she on to my thoughts? Is my face flushed? Am I hyperventilating? Oh no.)
Coworker: You look a bit tired.
Me: Oh, really? Maybe just a tad. (If “tired” means dreaming about the one person my partner says I can hypothetically sleep with, then yes, I’m exhausted.)
Coworker (looks skeptical): Let me know if you need anything.

Lunchroom Encounter

Later that day…
Me (entering the lunchroom): Hey, everyone!
(Gazing at my lunch. It’s glorious—leftover Chinese with those tiny red pork pieces mixed in and beef on a stick. What can top beef on a stick? I’m practically drooling.)
Coworker: Hey there.
Me: grunt. (Words escape me. This food is divine. I’d marry it if that were legal.)
Coworker: Are you okay?
Me: Absolutely! This food is incredible.
Coworker: Really? You seem kinda down.
Me: What? No way! I’m totally on my way to a foodgasm!
Coworker: Foodgasm? Did you just invent that? What’s on your plate? I want some!

Evening Reflection

Later that evening…
I’m sprawled on the couch, binge-watching a show and contemplating my life choices. Wait, should I be watching something else?
Partner (interrupting my stream of thoughts): Hey, do we need to have a talk?
Me: What? (Oh no. He knows. He must know I admire other people. But wait—what did I do? I think my bills are all paid. We had an intimate moment two days ago; it can’t be that. What’s the deal?)
Partner (raising an eyebrow): Do we need to discuss anything?
Me: I don’t think so. Why? (Seriously, help me out here. I can’t read minds.)
Partner: You look like you’re mad at me. Are you mad?
Me: No, not at all! (Why on earth would you think that?)
Partner: It’s your face. You look angry.
Me: My face?
Partner: Yeah, you have that 11 showing.
Me: My 11? No way! I scrubbed that off with my fancy new facial brush. That thing promised to erase even the deepest wrinkles. Susan said so at her beauty party, remember? I thought it was just drinks and snacks, not a beauty sales pitch! I bought that brush, and it better have worked.
Partner: Wow. Have you been drinking? Your 11 is definitely visible. And you’re squinting. And your lips are… a bit tight. But you look great! Just a few wrinkles. Come here, gorgeous.
Me (slowly processing): Tight, flawless, and wrinkled? What are you even saying?
Partner: I think I’m gonna head to bed now.
Me: Sure, go ahead.

I needed a moment to reflect. What does my face really look like? How can my daydreaming face, my foodgasm face, and my couch potato face all convey concern? Then it hit me—I’ve developed the dreaded Resting Bitch Face (RBF).

Yep, RBF. The unfortunate combination of wrinkles between my brows and some far-sightedness makes me appear perpetually annoyed. Great! This is my future: looking like a cranky old lady. Can I at least find a silver lining?

First, I’ll start indulging in more daydreams about the top of my Freebie list (it’s Chris Hemsworth, by the way). Who knows, maybe I’ll even mix in a fantasy about my number two pick (Ryan Reynolds). Clearly, my face won’t spoil my secret life.

Second, I can utilize this face for some child intimidation. Hey kiddo, you thought you could ignore me when I asked you to clean up? Let me just whip out my RBF. What do you think of that? Ha!

And finally, I’m getting a refund on that overpriced facial brush. Who needs it when my partner thinks I’m flawless?

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In summary, I’ve come to terms with my aging face and the unintended RBF it brings. Instead of fretting, I plan to embrace my new look and use it to my advantage. Who knew aging could be so entertaining?