This post was written by Emma Lord on Bustle and the link to the original article is here.
In the past year or so, we’ve heard a lot of people bemoaning the struggles of having “resting bitch face”, which is totally understandable. I’d be annoyed too if someone thought I was side-eyeing them when all I was thinking about was pizza (which is, incidentally, the thing I think about most). Of course, the other side of the resting face coin followed suit, chiming in with the woes of having “resting nice face”. We get it, human race: People make snap judgments about the content of your character based on the fall of your face, no matter who you are. But the resting face we don’t often consider might be the weirdest one of all: it’s Resting Confused Face (RCF), and it is the reason why my potential for awkward run-ins has been fully maximized even in my relatively short life.
To be fair, I am occasionally confused. Being a human can be confusing, which is something anyone who has ever been a human can back me up on. But I am also a full-grown adult, equipped with Siri and basic common sense, so if I am ever confused, I usually am not for long. My confidence in navigating my way through life, however, seems to be hopelessly incongruent with the expression on my face. I have gleaned from people’s reactions to me over the years that I must look terribly confused most of the time.
I mean, I can’t too upset about this. Nobody thinks I’m going to turn around and eat their child, for instance. No one thinks I look mean or scary. They just think I’m hopelessly lost and/or stupid, which is mildly condescending and insulting, but not necessarily the end of the world. Sometimes it actually makes me feel a little bit happy for the human race. Like, look at all these people interpreting my facial signals as confusion and trying to help me! That’s cool that our species is biologically predisposed to protect its own! It’s just kinda awkward when you’re the last person in the room who needed it in the first place.
What makes Resting Confused Face such a slippery beast, though, is that it can be extremely difficult to diagnose. You might be reading this right now unsure whether or not this applies to you (you might even say you’reconfused), but I’m here to help. You too might have Resting Confused Face if you have experienced any of these struggles in your life:
Strangers are always getting into your business
They’re totally doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. But it is still six kinds of embarrassing to have the old lady in the grocery store publicly ask me if I’m okay because I was squinting at the nutrition labels on the cereal with apparently more emotion than I thought I was.
If you look even slightly young for your age, people ask where your parents are
You know what? No, scratch that—I might look young, but I don’t look like somebody’s minor child anymore. And yet, even still, I have never walked through airport security without someone asking where my mom is, and before I can even explain myself, someone usually grabs my ticket and starts explaining at length where the gate is. My face is clearly that of a person who has not made the leap of logic between looking up at the gate signs and following the arrows to them in a timely fashion.
People never trust your authority on pretty much anything
Guess how many road trips I’ve been the navigator on? NONE. I’m not even saying I WANT to be the navigator, but it would damn sure be nice if people thought I was competent enough to adequately fill the role. And this isn’t just the case with directions—this is what happens in most aspects of your life if you have RCF. People always hesitate to put you in charge of something even if you’re fully confident that you’re capable.