What a Face

Apparently I have a very familiar face. I am stopped almost daily by a stranger's quizzical look, head cocked to the side, and the question "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" No, actually, you don't. I know the answer before the question leaves their lips, but I was taught to be polite, so I go through the list of places they may have seen me.

Well, are you from Texas? No?
Ever lived in Utah? Nope.
Are you an Engineer? Hmmm...

For a while I tried to flatter myself by thinking that this was a new pick-up line. But no, men, women, and children alike all seem to think that I look like their cousin, friend, neighbor, you name it. Once, I was stopped by a woman at the airport because she thought I was her daughter's best friend. I was a little concerned at how unfamiliar she must have been with her daughter's friends, but I smiled and informed her that, no, I've actually never even been to Maine.

My face is also much younger than the rest of me. At the age of 20, people guessed on average that my face was 15. Now that I'm 23, it can maybe pass for 17. On a good day.

My sophomore year of college, my roommates loved my face. Not because they thought it was such a cute 13-year-old face, or because they were just sure they had seen it somewhere before. No, they loved it because, apparently, I have a million and one of them. Faces, that is. This was a year of enlightenment for me. I mean, who knew that I have a different face for every emotion in existence, plus some. And, come to find out, I never make the same face more than once. Believe me, I've tried.

Initially, I thought this was great. See, I've never been very good at actually telling people how I feel. Now I don't have to! My face has been giving everything away all along. The problem is, I never know what my face is trying to say. What sort of information is it leaking? I never gave it permission to reveal anything. I wish it would at least let me know before it tells the world a story I never even knew I had.