The Curse of "Resting Too-Much-Information Face"

Have you ever been drunk with the fantasy that you are “a really good actor?” Are you a terrible poker player, despite being a pretty good strategist? Are you often really, really mad at your face as it betrays you - yet again - at the most inopportune time?

You may suffer from Resting Too-Much-Information Face.

A short story:

I was at a gathering with a friend not long ago, where she introduced me to a woman she thought would be an excellent work connection. With wine glasses in hand, we made small talk about business and life and discovered we shared the experience of parenting preschoolers. Without warning, she suddenly set off a conversation stink-bomb:

“…Sophie’s only 4, but she just loves it. Her dream is to model and act, and of course, I want to support her in achieving everything she wants. I’m finding that beauty pageants are just a great gateway for that whole world and she’s totally been on a winning streak, though the hair and makeup are kind of killing me, hahaha. Now that she’s got an agent we’re hoping to start with some commercial work soon, which would be awesome because then someone ELSE could deal with her hair, right? Haahaaa…”

Since I literally just met this woman, I did the thing you do: I smiled and nodded, looked interested and murmured a few encouraging words so she knew I was listening.

Or so I thought.

As my friend’s eyes widened with the universal sign “let's get the hell away from here,” we chatted a bit longer, awkwardly exchanged business cards, and parted ways.

Friend: “Oh my God. Did you have to have tell her exactly what you think of that whole scene with her kid? Seriously. She could have been really useful to you!

Me: “What do you mean? I was nice! I didn't "say" anything!"

Friend, annoyed: “You didn’t have to. It was all over your face. You might as well have told her beauty pageants are the devil”

Which of course they are. Saying so, however, is at least one of the things you don't do with a potentially "really useful" person you've known for exactly 3 minutes.

While I  thought I was smiling and nodding and channeling Meryl Streep, entirely against my will what my face said instead was something along the lines of, “What. The. Seriously. Fuck. She’s FOUR. “Her dream is to model and act?” Please. Four-year old’s are mostly interested in what comes out of their nose and eating spaghetti with their hands. Have you seen Toddlers and Tiaras? Or Honey Boo-Boo? BEAUTY PAGEANTS?? I can’t even…”

Good grief.

I now appreciate I was confusing self-delusion with my ability to "act." 

Oh, I know you “Resting Bitch Face” folks have your issues alright. Endless and inane calls to “C’mon, smile, wouldja?” and infinitely explaining away the good-natured (but not-so-good-natured) question “Why so serious all the time?” I get that it’s a never ending case of mistaken sensibility and even character, and I appreciate calling it “Resting Nothing is Wrong, I Promise, Face” would be more accurate and could solve a world of problems.  I feel you! But let me also say that from where I stand, that stone-cold, grumpy-assed face of yours looks like a gift.

My best line of defense before anyone starts to tell their story would really be to just put the issue right out there, but I’m not sure how that would go over: “I’m totally and genuinely interested in everything you have to say. I cannot, however, be held responsible for what my face does while you talk.”

I have learned over the years that I have both natural gifts and I have learned skills. Acting like I think you’re a genius when you clearly are not, is neither of these.

Yes, my face (like my mind, it turns out), is an asshole. Any attempts to bend it to my will inevitably, often hilariously fail. It is a puppet to my internal dialogue.

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL!

Fortunately, few things in this world are entirely good or bad, and Resting Too Much Information Face has its upside too. For instance, everyone always knows exactly where they stand with you. You rarely have to “make it up” because your feelings are laid bare on the picture window that is your face. It's the equivalent of movie background music as your internal dialogue is endlessly projected, ensuring everyone knows where at least you are at in the conversational drama.

Life is easier – and kinder – for those who can fudge-it-on-by. Having your face lay it out there without your consent makes life...awkward. There’s no pretending you like your brother’s googley-eyed girlfriend, that the life-sized glass cat your aunt Agnes gives you is "so nice!" and it's tough to sell the hundred small lies that are the virtual glue of loving, long term relationships. It occurs to me there may be a reason so many of us with Resting Too Much Information Face are still single...

But I digress.

For other men and women out there with lousy facial muscle control; for those of you whose faces tell the inevitable truth - I stand in solidarity with you.  Your suffering is my suffering. Who else knows the challenge of trying to "fake it til you make it" when your stupid face betrays at every turn, amiright?  We not only can't have feelings in secret, but worse, it's sometimes the case that our face knows what we think before our minds do.

You're my people! No one knows the troubles we’ve seen… though there's a good chance they can read them on our faces in real time anyway.