Obscure Chronic Illnesses

By now, there has been a spread of awareness, acceptance, and support groups for a not-uncommon condition known as R.B.F.  (For more information, see this public service announcement, or this educational video.)

While I'm fortunate to not suffer from that terrible affliction, with alarming frequency I'm reminded that I suffer from a less offensive but more insidious malady of the facial mimetic muscles:  Resting Generic Face (R.G.F.)

On a regular basis, total strangers on the street wave at me enthusiastically

 

 

...only to do a double take when they get closer, then uncomfortably mumble apologies like "Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

Earlier this Spring, a small child spontaneously pointed out that I look like her American Girl Dolls. That's plural. I apparently look like all of them.

I assume it's because my elbows don't bend?  Total resemblance.

Virtually every woman over age 70 believes that I'm the absolute spitting image of her niece, granddaughter, home health nurse, bartender, in-law, or that nice young lady from church who sells the raffle tickets at the Christmas fundraiser every year.

I'll take two of those tickets. I feel lucky.

It's not harmful in any way. It's not nearly as distressing as RBF must be. Nonetheless, it has me thinking about whether I should take aggressive measures to look more distinctive.

Mohawk?