Amy Kathleen Ryan
I know you hate to be told what to do with your face. Elderly men in particular love telling you to smile—for which you reward them with a sarcastic smirk. Good work. They should mind their own business. But since I’m you, and your face is mine, I have every right to make this suggestion: Slap a grin on your mug.
You know how you never get asked out on dates? That’s because you lurch through the hallways of your school with your head down as if you were ducking enemy fire.
I can’t blame you. High school isn’t easy. You’ve got all types—from motorheads to eggheads to potheads—crammed into a single building at high density, and you have to get through the day without erupting into civil war. I have news for you, too: Adults wouldn’t be able to do it. In adulthood, people have self-sorted into pockets of like-minded compadres. The computer geeks work together at Microsoft, the debate members have all joined law firms, and the drama kids are launching off-off-Broadway plays in Minneapolis. So don’t listen to adults telling you these are the best years of your life. It gets infinitely better when you can choose what you do, where, and with whom. But until that day comes, smile!
I’m not saying you should be one of those plastic, ever-chipper girls who bounce through the hallway swinging their ponytails behind them like bullwhips. These girls will grow up to be real estate agents, politicians, and PTA presidents. Their smiles will become like debit cards, earning them professional capital, but depleting them in the soul department.
Nonetheless, there are occasions when it would be eminently appropriate for you to smile. For instance, you know that cute guy in the leather jacket who was ogling you at the football game? And you know how you were so nervous you could barely glance in his direction? When you did look at him, it was oh so casually, as though your eye was actually drawn to the overboiled hotdogs behind him, and you just happened to look at his manly shoulders by accident. Did it never once occur to you that you could actually smile at him? Give him a little invitation? A little facial tic that says, “Hi. I am receptive. Please initiate.” If you’d managed to contort your frown a mere thirty degrees upward, he might be dating you and your fuzzy 1980s perm right now (instead of that girl with the bubble butt and colored contacts).
Because here’s the thing I don’t think you realize: It is actually possible for a guy to be attracted to you. No, you’re not the prettiest girl in school. And you’re definitely not the most popular. But that doesn’t mean that some nice, cute guy couldn’t notice you. And if you encouraged him with a friendly grin, he might be able to overcome his nervousness enough to say hi. And then you might have a date for homecoming instead of being forced to hang out on the bleachers with your wallflower girlfriends mouthing the lyrics to “Forever Young.”
You won’t be, you know. Your looks will fade, and you’ll spend money on creams and tinctures to try and buy a few more minutes of youthfulness. That’s what I do now every night; I scrub away dead skin cells by whatever means necessary. I’m trying to look like you. That’s because you’re beautiful. All teenage girls are beautiful. Your eyes are clear. Your skin is wrinkle-free. You’re energetic and lovely by virtue of your gorgeous, enviable youth. So don’t waste it. Pull your face up out of its foxhole. Take a chance on the world. Smile.
Amy Kathleen Ryan is the author of Vibes (2010), Zen and Xander Undone (2011), and Glow (2011)—the first book in the Sky Chasers series. She lives in Colorado with her family.