Resting Bitch Face Syndrome. “RBFS”. It’s a subject not to be taken lightly.
This topic is near and dear to me as I am married to a woman who suffers from this condition. It’s a challenge each and everyday for our family.
At first I thought nothing of this. When I met her I just thought the whole serious Joan Jett look was sexy and it actually turned me on.
As time went on I noticed she wasn’t capable of cracking a smile. I think I can be a funny guy at times so I began to question why she never laughed or showed any feelings of amusement around me.
I finally put it to the test. I figured if I book a vacation to the Bahamas and buy her a Range Rover I should experience some sort of a positive reaction. So I drained my bank account and proceeded to wrap the truck up in a bow and put the vacation voucher on the front seat as I sat impatiently waiting for her response. This chick thanked me and stared at me like Jeffery Dahmer at junior prom as she proclaimed her happiness. I was baffled.
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings as I realized this may be a serious condition. I decided to up my game.
I took her to a nice restaurant and pulled my back out as I got down on one knee and presented a diamond ring and asked her to be my wife. She had a look on her face like she just swallowed a family of tadpoles and said yes. I thought she was joking as I attempted to grab her upper lip with my butter knife and form some kind of smile reaction. Her lips had the bite force of a great white and could not be adjusted. It was that moment I realized she needed medical attention.
I wasn’t going to judge this lady. I loved her and I was going to deal with this and hopefully get her the proper help and support she needed.
Hardest part for me in all of this was watching my future bride walk down the wedding isle looking like she just inhaled Anthrax. By now I knew internally she was happy as a clam.
I prayed and prayed for her as I did three shots of holy water and wolfed down the body of Christ like Governor Christie at a Dennys “all you can eat” pancake festival.
I had the solution. Give her children. If that doesn’t make her smile then nothing will. So I got Brad Pitt on the phone to grab some sperm and we were on our way to being parents. For nine months straight my wife resembled Mommy Dearest “on the rag” and occasionally I would get a dose of her acting like that mother from “Dance Moms.”
The day had arrived. We wheeled this miserable being into the operating room pregnant with twins all hopped up on morphine and for a slight second I thought I saw a smile. Turned out to be a puddle of drool building up in the corner of her lip. Oh well.
The boys were delivered. I grabbed one of those slimy suckers and threw it at her and she looked at me and said “oh babe he’s beautiful, I’m so happy” as she looked like Heath Ledger in Batman.
I couldn’t win. Is what it is. I love her. She is my life. She gave me two beautiful boys who are capable of smiling. Thank god.
One day I set something on fire and she had a smile that resembled Patrick Ewing at the NBA finals!! There is hope!
Let me know if anybody else has a similar story or has been dealing with this condition! I’m interested in starting a support group to help deal with living with someone who suffers from “RBFS”.