Her mouth naturally turned upward on the ends and her eyes had a twinkle about them. The lady at the grocery store had a happy face!!! I wish I had a happy face. I feel happy on the inside most of the time; actually sometimes I have to stop myself from laughing out loud as I think of funny things, but my face doesn’t show it. If I’m relaxed and minding my own business, my face looks sad, if not angry. There have been innumerable times when someone has asked me, “What’s wrong?” I shake off the shock of the question, remember and say. “Oh, its just my face. I’m fine.” That reply usually requires more of an explanation, but frankly. . . . I’m tired of clarifying. There was a time when I tried freezing my face. I figured that if your crossed eyes, per my mother, would freeze that way, maybe an upturned mouth would too. It didn’t work, which makes me question my mother’s wisdom, but that’s another issue.
In truth, things have actually gotten worse. At my age everything is starting to sag. I won’t go into the gloomy details, but I will say that a sagging face is definitely not helping the quest for a happy face. My natural frowns are frownier and my eyes are dropping into a semi-angry position. This really does belie the woman I am.
So who am I? Aaahhh, the age old question. I’m older than I feel. I’m happier than I look. I’m busier than I want to be. I often laugh at inappropriate times. I say things I wish I hadn’t. I love way too much. I have friends who mean the world to me. I’m healthy. I miss my children when they aren’t here. I wish my parents lived closer. I need to be near the ocean. I love children.
Does it sound like my cup is half anything? Not even close. My cup is overflowing. I am drinking up the nectar of a lucky life and taking advantage of every opportunity that comes my way. I’m happy. . . very happy!
So, screw my frowny face and look into my heart. Its corners are turned upward and it beats to the rhythm of happiness and thankfulness.
Aha. . . The next time someone asks me what’s wrong. . . . My answer will be, “not a damn thing.”
In truth, things have actually gotten worse. At my age everything is starting to sag. I won’t go into the gloomy details, but I will say that a sagging face is definitely not helping the quest for a happy face. My natural frowns are frownier and my eyes are dropping into a semi-angry position. This really does belie the woman I am.
So who am I? Aaahhh, the age old question. I’m older than I feel. I’m happier than I look. I’m busier than I want to be. I often laugh at inappropriate times. I say things I wish I hadn’t. I love way too much. I have friends who mean the world to me. I’m healthy. I miss my children when they aren’t here. I wish my parents lived closer. I need to be near the ocean. I love children.
Does it sound like my cup is half anything? Not even close. My cup is overflowing. I am drinking up the nectar of a lucky life and taking advantage of every opportunity that comes my way. I’m happy. . . very happy!
So, screw my frowny face and look into my heart. Its corners are turned upward and it beats to the rhythm of happiness and thankfulness.
Aha. . . The next time someone asks me what’s wrong. . . . My answer will be, “not a damn thing.”
I can certainly identify, Ellen. I'll be driving or walking in the grocery store and suddenly notice that my body language stinks on ice. Slumped shoulders, a sad look, but inside I'm feeling okay. I'm quick to judge others who walk around looking like they're carrying the world on their shoulders, but don't bother as much to notice me. Sounds bad, but I'm glad to know there's another like me. -- Good writing, lady. mark
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