Wonderful new dispatches from America: women are flocking to their surgeons to fix troublesome cases of “Resting Bitch Face”. For the uninitiated, this is a debilitating condition when your face doesn’t constantly display a rictus smile and instead relaxes. Some read this failure to constantly wear the pained grin of a retail greeter as an indication of unfriendliness or – “quelle horreur” – that the owner of the face in question is “a bitch”.
However, no fear! Help is at hand and that hand is clutching a needle with exactly 0.5mg of filler, which is injected into the lower portion of the face at six month intervals. Plus it’s a bargain at between $500 to $5000 smackeroos! A small price to pay for making yourself more palatable to the neckbeard in the corner.
Of course, I hate this. Hate it. What kind of hellish 1950s simulacrum have our robot overlords plugged us into?
There is so much already women are told we have to fix: our noses, our wrinkles, our butts, the rolls on our stomachs, the orange peel on our thighs, the flesh under our arms, our hair, our skin, our attitudes, our desires, our simple request for equal footing with men. And now we can’t even look mad about it? As a wise man once said “NICE FOR WHAT?” Nice for fucking what?! What has being pleasant and nice ever achieved for women except gaining the approval of those who look to subjugate us? You want to be nice? Nice doesn’t get equal pay, nice doesn’t get respect and nice certainly won’t help you challenge the patriarchy in all its insidious forms.
“People gravitate to women who they perceive as happy,” states one of the surgeons in the original report on this mess. Well… what if I’m not happy? What if I don’t want your musty ass gravitating anywhere near me? Fuck that. I’m not just keeping my resting bitch face, I’m cultivating an active bitch face. Sneer on laydeez, it’s time to face the world.