In my year end review, my boss told me that some people’s perception of me is that I’m stand-offish. Which shocked me, because I think I’m a super nice person. The issue is that I’m not great in crowds of people I don’t know. Plus, I apparently have what’s affectionately referred to as “resting bitch face” which is a thing I guess I have to worry about now. I’ll save the diatribe about how my male counterparts probably don’t have the words like “resting bitch face” in their reviews for another blog.
So, I recently subscribed to the New Yorker, largely because I got a $6 deal on Twitter, and I figured reading it on planes would make much better use of my time than watching reruns of True Blood on my iPad. But also, and follow me here, usually when I see someone reading something interesting like the Economist or Harper’s Bazaar I will forgo my icy “don’t f$ck with me” face and give the reader a smile and say something lame like “great read, anything interesting this issue?” I figured the New Yorker may elicit a similar response from fellow passengers. The end game being that I can practice being less “resting bitch face” on people I don’t know or care about.
My first issue arrived and I eagerly packed it for my trip to Nashville, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best flight to practice using the New Yorker as an ice breaker. I sat in seat 7C, aisle, and whipped out my magazine as the remaining passengers loaded and tried to catch the eye of an occasional passenger. Then I see a nicely dressed gentlemen look at me and motion that he was 7A window. I stood up and smiled and nodded, he looked at me smiled and nodded at my magazine and said “Well that was a waste of money, wasn’t it.”
Resting bitch face it is.
Journey On, Janes.
post-script: RBS is an absolutely appropriate face to wear when you don’t wish to draw the attention of unwanted company while sitting at a bar after a long day of business travel.