A million years ago when I was a television reporter, from time to time we got calls from viewers who said I had “scary eyes.” We also got calls from viewers who said the FBI was trying to read their thoughts. One woman claimed that God came into her body, and she’d had three babies. (Explaining that I refused to refer to her boyfriend as “God” did not go over well.) One woman was particularly concerned about calling the 10pm newscast “Nightside.” She thought it had some kind of demonic connotation.
But since these eye calls had my name associated with them, they were brought to my attention with the admonition, “so you should probably do something about that.”
Sure. I’ll do something about that. Since I had no actual clue what to do about my scary eyes, I’ve just gone on frightening people since.
Many years later, I diagnosed myself with Resting Bitch Face or RBF. This is a serious condition. Memes have been made about this, people. Celebrities, First Ladies, Queens (real and imaginary) and Presidential candidates have been diagnosed over the Internet. So you know it’s an epidemic.
But now. I’m wondering if in my rush to explain why I am constantly asked if something is wrong, I might have made a bad call. People aren’t afraid of me because I have RBF. People are afraid because I have Aggressive Talking Face or ATF.
Just look at these photos.
Maybe it’s RBF. Maybe it’s ATF. Could it be a co-morbidity? Surely there’s a celebrity that can throw a fundraiser for research to shed some light on this terrible condition. Or is it a syndrome? How can you tell the two apart?
This is enough for a person to take to her bed with worry. It would be like a quarantine. It might be the only way for the rest of you to be safe from my scary eyes and aggressive face.
Until I get a special ribbon color and month to wear it, when we speak, you’ll just have to take my word for it that I’m not mad at you. I’m usually in a perfectly fine mood. I just might not look like it.
The struggle is real.