Okay, I am, once again, going to explain why I have had a mustache since I was 13-years-old. Yes, I know we have been over this before, but there are a lot of new people, so bear with me. That, up there, is a picture of me, taken about six months ago. It is one of the rare times when I shaved off all my facial hair. Now, what strikes you about that photo?
The smile, right? But the thing is… and this is the thing that explains why I need a mustaches so badly… it isn’t really a good smile. And I’m not doing it on purpose. In fact, if you look closely at the tightness around my mouth, I am actually trying not to smile.
That is because my resting smile… which is a little like women cursed with a ‘resting bitch face’… is smug, a little condescending, and makes me look like I know stuff that you don’t know… which I do, but I am not smug about it.
Also, I hate the idea that I am constantly smiling. That is way too much pressure.
There is another picture, taken at the same time. Now, who does that smile remind you of?
Yes, I have the same freekin’ smile as Mona Lisa… Now, you would think that having the same smile as the enigmatic one that has captured the imagination of the world for centuries would be a good thing… but it isn’t.
There, I Photoshopped the Mona Lisa smile onto my face… go ahead, scroll up to the first two pictures… and tell me if I am just imaging all this.
Pouring My Art Out 