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Okay, so here’s the thing; there are some people who just look angry in every day life.  Yes, it’s true; when in a neutral mood these survivors of resting bitch face exhibit what might be mistaken as a festering rage.  I’m sure everyone knows this though.  These people are constantly having to explain that they’re “alright” and that “really, nothings wrong,” which is why society took it upon itself to create a quick explanation for their condemnation so that they don’t have to go through the wingding of a long drawn out answer to why they’re wearing the face that they were born with.

And all that’s great and good.

But then something went wrong.

Suddenly it became cool to have Resting Bitch Face Disorder.  Suddenly, everyone wanted to have a resting bitch face that they could wear around like disposable 3D glasses with the lenses popped out – as a style.  And we all just sat back, silently idle, letting it happen.


So now, you come across people who walk into a room wearing a face that suggests that someone pissed in their porridge and you shoot them a cordial smile as if to say, “Hey, it’s going to be okay” and then they roll their eyes and kiss their teeth like “pffft.”  Then you start responding in kind, basically just assuming that they’re a bad person who should drop dead, and finally they confront you like, “Why are you being rude to me?”

And you’re like, “because you’re always in a bad mood so I just can’t even with you.”

Then you get the line, “No, no.  I just have a resting bitch face.”

Now let’s stop here.

Let me say, I don’t have Resting Bitch Face Disorder.  I wish I did and I totally understand the appeal, but I don’t and I don’t pretend to have it either.

In fact, I’ve started observing the difference between people who actually have Resting Bitch Face Disorder and people who are claiming to have it and here’s what I’ve found:

Generally speaking here, you can spot a poser because they came off as rude.  “But isn’t that what Resting Bitch Face Disorder is?” you ask.


First of all, a real BRF isn’t accompanied by an attitude – so you don’t feel slighted by being hit by its direct beam.  You’re more curious of what you or someone else has done to bring about this glare, if we can call it that.  It’ll come off as a sort of gaze that just has a lot of malice about it, but seems like it’s pointed in whatever direction the person is looking and not specifically at you.  It won’t actually seem bitchy.  It’ll seem like a seething rage, smoldering just below the surface of a feigned self-control.


If you’re wearing a BRF at Olive Garden while waiting to speak to the manager because “there is lettuce on this burger and you specifically stated no lettuce” you’re a poser, claiming to have a Resting Bitch Face.

Real BRF people who suffer from the disorder, are usually distracted and don’t realize that they’ve relaxed into what looks like a person who has stared into the abyss and taken comfort in the thought of it staring back.

For example, if you’re talking to a chum and you find yourself on an anecdotal story about this or that and the person you’re talking to is engaged and listening, when things begin to happen:

They might be paying more attention to what you’re saying than the expression that they’re wearing, so suddenly the attentive smile will begin to change.  The skies might darken.  A cold wind surfacing and the light in their eyes will fade into a pale dilapidated peering, fixed upon you with a focus glimmering into the recesses of your soul.  The heartbeat quickens.  “What have I said?  We were just talking.  Why is he/she looking at me like that?”  You might begin to feel an ashen death glancing to and fro where your chum once stood, calcifying all in its wake of devastation.  Perhaps, they’ll unknowingly clinch their teeth revealing a jawline so sharp that it cuts a nearby kitten the fuck in half.

And in a desperate attempt of escape you’ll conclude your point early with an awkward laugh and, “ah… you don’t care anyway.”

But then:

“Wait, what happened after that?  You can’t just leave it there,” the chum will ask, half realizing that they’ve accidentally allowed their basilisk-like thousand-yard stare to rap against your person, point blank and mid-story, unintentionally liquefying your bowels.

You might awkwardly explain that they just didn’t seem interested, to which they’ll dance around the fact that it’s just their face, trying to smile more and assure you that “nothing’s wrong.”

That’s the real deal.

That’s the Resting Bitch Face.

Because, I guess, people have forgotten that there’s a difference between Resting Bitch Face and just straight up being a bitch.