Faking It

Apparently, it began as a joke; this PSA for bitchy resting face like it’s a medical problem, but millions of people have admitted to having this problem and now it’s my turn. I have bitchy resting face. And I know this because people tell me I do. They say it right to my bitch face. The first time I remember being made aware of how horrible my face is, I was 13. For anyone just joining a civilized society, age 13 is the peak of girl’s self-esteem. You never feel better about how weird your body is getting, or more confident in every thing you say or do, the way you do when you’re 13. My youth pastor took it upon himself to let me know how frightening I was and told me one night at church. After youth group, with all of my friends within ear shot, he told me that I had “a mean face.” Looking back at myself, I probably wasn’t as weird as I felt, but I wasn’t so comfortable with myself that I could brush off a comment like that. A mean face. A mean face? What the fuck? I re

  I'm getting ready to start a new job that involves teaching kids. Adults too, but a lot of levels involving kids. I've never taught kids before and I'm nervous about it, so I've been doing what I always do when I'm nervous which is talk to my parents. They have great insight, my Mom and Dad. And they've been telling me stories about when my sisters and me were young and learning to read. I'm teaching reading, so you know that it's germane. And my Mom just told me a story about the time when I was in kindergarten and the teacher requested I learn to use scissors. I was able to enter school at the age of 4 because I could read and write but I couldn't use scissors apparently. I guess I was busy doing other things, like learning to swim and tie a shoelace, dancing, playing soccer, learning to sew, but I never did pick up a pair of scissors on my own.   And it was only a few short years later, when I was in third grade, that I would be falsely accuse