Discovery Through Resting B**** Face

I have worked in customer service for the past four years, since I was nineteen. I’m now twenty-three and my everyday experiences have not changed much since my first day. I imagine they’re the same experiences that other females have either waitressing, selling coffees, or even walking down the street. I have yet to talk to a man that has had a similar experience, but I’m sure there are a few out there that have had that one customer (or several) that have made their skin crawl or even made them consider quitting the minimum wage job. Because in reality, is it worth it?

I would wake up at 3:30 in the morning to get to my job. I would brush my hair, pull on clothes (my socks most likely not matching, my hair not exactly smooth). I’d put on a thin layer of eye liner, wondering why I really bothered. Leaving the house without it made me feel… not right. Naked in a way, placing this word among the stories that are to come somehow doesn’t feel right either. My face felt empty without it, like I had no eyes, no nose. So, I put it on, brushed my teeth, and went to my car where I would drive with one hand, and eat a burnt English muffin with the other.

Minimum wage jobs, am I right?

I’d get to work early, relish the hour of quiet before the doors opened and the torture began. But it wasn’t really torture. Most people were polite, funny even. They could hold conversations, but then there were those customers that were too friendly. The ones that attempted to set you up with their sons numerous times, introducing you every time: “This is so and so, take him to the movies,” or “This is so and so he’s my son, you’ve met, right?” with that gleam in the eye that says I know you’ve met now stop wasting time. Or the same man would say, “since you’re not into dating younger men what about me? My wife may be a little upset.” And because you’re in a public place and because the customer is supposed to always be right, you laugh when really you just want to walk away and avoid further contact. Because who could really talk this way? In front of people?

Then of course there’s the comments that you’re not supposed to hear, the ones that the customers try to whisper to one another, but the noise still carries through the morning air. Because there are only two customers in the building the noise of course reaches you, the way the rain inevitably reaches you.

“That body though.” You hear it and you spend a few more minutes in the back, taking extra care to wash your hands, listening, waiting for more customers to come in so you don’t have to talk to those customers, so that maybe a rush of new customers will block that one person’s view of you. But alas. That doesn’t happen. Instead you walk back onto the floor, pretending to be busy with something so you don’t have to look at them, but instead when you walk by they say your name and say one of the most annoying commands.

“Smile!”

And suddenly smiling is the enemy and “resting bitch face” becomes your best friend.

It was after this that I discovered a trick. Maybe not a trick and maybe I didn’t discover it. An accident occurred, a night of no sleep and an alarm clock pushed further back.

I woke up at 3:45. A single brush through my hair until the ponytail I slept in was again somewhat straight. I brushed my teeth, rinsed with mouthwash, and grabbed that English muffin, burning my fingers as it popped from the toaster.

And what did I forget?

To put on the eyeliner.

The comments from those customers went ignored that day because they didn’t come. Instead a stranger said, “Hey, nice eyes.” And just like that, I knew I wasn’t faceless without the makeup; there were in fact a nose and two blue-green eyes on my face.

I stopped putting in so much effort with the makeup even though before I was convinced I didn’t wear that much. I really didn’t, most of the things I had sat on my shelf only used on special occasions (poetry nights, Christmas parties, etc.). I began focusing on other aspects of me. I put effort into writing, began sleeping more, cared for my skin, and drank more water. Without the makeup, my skin took on a new glow, my eyes were less itchy.

And best of all when I stopped putting in the effort I received less comments from the strange customers. I’ve wondered if it was because they thought the effort was for them. It never was. Any effort I put into my appearance was for me and by forgetting to put on eyeliner I found new things to put effort into to make myself feel better.

A few random beauty statistics:

1. The amount of time it takes to get done up changes as the week goes on, Friday taking almost 1/3rd the amount of time Monday did
2. 2Many people continue using makeup past its expiration date (careful, there’s bacteria growing)
3. 1 in 3 women refuse to leave the house without makeup
4. 75% of men 18 and up do not use facial skin care routine
5. 80% of women agree that each woman has something beautiful about them, but they do not see their own beauty (This needs to change)