Living with Chronic Bitchface

When I was five, my aunt told me that I'd be prettier if I'd smile more.

It was not long after that that I would learn that I'm coping with an incurable and irreversible  case of Chronic Bitchface.

(This, of course, is missing the thought bubble coming out of his head that reads,
"what the hell is her problem?") 

It's not an easy way to live, there are many challenges, but I'm making the best of it that I can. 

The funny thing is that most people think I'm angry, when in reality I just utterly confused, incontrovertibly disappointed and justifiably frustrated. 

I, because I apparently don't learn from experience, believe that things will work out and make sense. When they inevitably don't, I am first confused, then disappointed, and increasingly, frustrated. Being frustrated causes me to furrow my brow, a lot. Furrowing my brow a lot leads to wrinkles, causing me to look as if I'm constantly furrowing my brow, which makes me look angry all of the time. 

It also doesn't help that my confused face and "you're-an-idiot" face are identical. But, such is life.

A friend of mine once pointed out that if I smiled more I would become more approachable. The next day at school I tried to walk around with a smile on my face. Apparently, walking around with a smile on your face is creepy. Or maybe it's just creepy on me. It's hard to know. 

I don't know how to get rid of the bitchface. Sorry. I'm sorry for scowling. I'm sorry if I've inadvertently made any of you feel stupid by just looking at you. I'm sorry for making anyone uncomfortable. I can't help it, I was born this way.