Smile: A favorable, pleasing, or agreeable appearance; bright, pleasant aspect.
Today’s meeting had a few fleeting references to the effect that smiling can have on the people that we encounter in the course of a day. When I look at pictures of myself pre-drinking – a gruesome task not suitable for pregnant women or young children or anyone with a heart condition, really – I am never smiling. I look surly, vaguely threatening. And when I do show teeth, my expression appears forced or to be more of a grimace, like I’m unsuccessfully trying to pass gas. I look like a fleshed-out death’s head. I don’t think any of us would say a skeleton is smiling. Smiling is not just the teeth.
A few years back I really tried breaking out the smile when I talked to people, especially strangers. I don’t know why I didn’t try it earlier. It has a magical effect. People smile back. I don’t even have to smile sincerely for people to react positively. I can totally be faking it. I try to smile even when I feel like saying: “Ah, why don’t you go to hell.”
Part of being happy today is simply pretending to be happy. I find that I fool myself half of the time. I find that I start to get happy despite my best efforts to stay pissed, and I so love being pissed, apparently, because I do it all of the time
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