This Is My Face

This is my expression right now.

I am not:

• tired
• bored
• sick
• mad
• upset
• frustrated
• bitchy
• too cool for school

I am:

• just sitting here

That's about it. Apparently this is called Resting Bitchface (RBF). Normally when I take a selfie, I smile. Then I take several more to smile better, or less awkwardly, or to make sure the double chin isn't showing as badly. But I smile for the camera. I retained my neutral expression for this one, because I'm often mistaken for being any one of the things (and more) in the first list. 

Because apparently girls and women are expected to spend their day looking like this.

I faked a smile for this one. I do look like this sometimes - when I'm reading a funny article, watching children do something ridiculous, talking with a friend about something pleasant, etc. But when I'm just sitting working, relaxing, or having a conversation about unpleasant or neutral topics, I don't go to any extra effort to smile. Just because I'm not happy doesn't mean I'm sad or mad. I'm just me.

In junior high, the most horrible two years of my life, I tried as much as I could to avoid direct attention because it was usually negative. I remember distinctly a teacher stopping in the middle of a lesson to say "Smile, Val!" It was humiliating. Everyone turned to look. There was no possible way I could smile at that point because I was mortally embarrassed. I had been sitting there minding my own business, taking notes and paying attention. I also recall my mother, at home, when I was feeling particularly upset and needing support, would tell me to "smile." Somehow, that would magically improve the isolation and rejection I felt on a daily basis.

Buzzfeed recently poked fun at it with 22 Things That Only Happen to People With Resting Bitchface. A friend asked if those were issues that everyone has. No, we decided. We both just have RBF.

Why is a woman's neutral expression automatically associated with bitchiness simply because she is not radiating happiness? Jezebel's Kristine Gutierrez says, "No one - especially a stranger - has any fucking right to question my state of constipation or anger on the street because I lack the happiness requisite for proper woman-ing." Umm... YUP.

There are fixes for RBF. You could get plastic surgery and get a "grin lift" to literally turn your frown upside down. You can practice smiling. You can literally train yourself to smile more often. But... why? There are studies out there that suggest smiling improves ones mood. I'm not going to look them up to link them, but you'll have to trust me. But there's also a wealth of evidence that forcing smiles on people who aren't feeling cheerful has a negative effect. Salon, who has far better writers than I, did a great piece on it. Among other smart observations, it wrote:

Projecting a cheerfulness you don’t feel saps energy and effort. It is draining to constantly arrange your features like a bouquet for the male gaze. In Why Smile?, LaFrance discusses the psychological dissonance female flight attendants experience after hours of forced gaiety. They report feeling estranged from their emotions (the industry parlance for this state of numbness is “going robot”), falling into depression, losing sight of their true selves.

Yikes! Did you see that? Forced smiles will eventually result in feeling estranged from your emotions, falling into depression, and losing sight of your true self. All for making sure other people are comfortable with your appearance.

Here's an idea. We could also stop judging people based on first impressions. We could talk with people more. We could stop making assumptions. We could actually give people the benefit of the doubt. I find a more honest connection with people who have RBF. Their focus is not outward appearance. They're honest about themselves and their feelings and they're okay with me and my feelings at any particular time. There are fewer expectations. If they have a non-standard feeling or opinion on a particular situation or topic, they can share it with me and I with them.

Resting Bitchface is just... my face. Deal with it.

100 Years of Shaving... aaaaaaand I'm Done.

Did you know that 2015 marks 100 years of commercially available shaving products? 100 years ago, created a razor for women and ran an ad in Harper's Bazaar telling us that women of fashion shaved their armpits.

The razor was "of dainty size" (because women are dainty) and plated in 14K gold. Prior to 1915, for the most part, women's fashion kept armpits covered. "Underarm" was not a word used in polite or mixed company. Later, as hemlines inched up, leg shaving followed. Removing body hair became a standard of beauty for western women that didn't exist prior. Men had hair. Women did not. You could not be properly feminine with body hair.

It's March. Over here on the west coast, it never gets that cold to begin with. This year has been unseasonably warm. A few days ago I wore a dress. I didn't shave. The world did not end. But social media has been telling me there are rules I'm supposed to follow.

First World Problems lady and I are great friends, but I'm not with her on this one. It's quite easy to not shave your legs. Simply don't pick up the razor.

Mayim Bialik, formerly of Blossom and currently of Big Bang Theory, has never shaved her legs. She writes of her son finding a bottle of pink shaving cream (a piece of swag she was given at an event) and asking why it was pink (because pink=girls, if you weren't following along). When she told him that some women shave, he was aghast and could only picture them shaving their face like men. When she explained that, no, some shave their legs and armpits, he asked "Why?" 

My son knows I have body hair just like he knows my husband does. It’s normal and natural to have body hair. 

Yeah, my kids too. A child's standard of beauty starts with their mother. Leg shaving is not a standard they are growing up with as a given. Their dad has leg hair. Their mom has leg hair. Humans have hair on their legs. Some humans shave it. My children can shave their body hair if they want to (later, when they're old enough to not cut themselves), and it is my hope that they will do so (or not do so) because they WANT to, not because society tells them they must (or must not). 

I have fought the hairy leg stigma for some time. Friends have expressed horror at my unshaven legs. I believe one said it was gross. Another has felt the need to defend her desire to shave her legs. Let me set the record straight: if you want to shave your legs, go ahead and shave them. I will not judge you, so long as you extend the same courtesy to those who make a different choice - and in many cases it is the more difficult choice. Sure, leg shaving takes time, effort, and money. But leaving your legs natural often takes courage and the mental ability to withstand pressure, taunts, and judgement from those close to you and society at large. You tell me - which is harder?

Here is a handy flow chart from AK Tettenborn to help you decide whether or not to shave your legs.

Except I would modify the one on the end to say "Go ahead and shave." Period. It doesn't matter why you want to shave. If you want to shave, do it. Here are some more memes that do not imply a culture imperative, created by yours truly.

I will continue to shave my armpits. If I stopped, my shower routine would be thrown off and I'd probably forget something important, like rinsing shampoo out of my hair. I will not look down on women who choose not to. I'll probably continue tugging on my husband's gorilla pits, because that's my job as his wife. I might shave my legs, but here is a list of reasons why I won't:

• because summer
• because shorts
• because skirts
• because my husband wants me to (I want him to shave his nipples, but we don't get everything we want)
• because someone taunted me
• because Gillette told me to

Here is a list of reasons why I might:

• because I want to

You'll notice it's a pretty short list. I have a number of new dresses I'm excited to wear this year. The hem sits around my knees. I will attempt to document the responses I get as I go about my business with visible leg hair. There may be selfies. Like this one.

My name is Val and hair grows on my legs.