Frowny. (stop correcting me autocorrect).

D: Are you okay?

Me: *types furiously*

D: Are you okay? You look… pissed off.

Me: That’s my resting face. You should KNOW this by now.


But yes, I am frowny. I frown when I am writing and when I am driving. Other drivers don’t like me because I always scowl at them, even when I raise my hand in thanks for letting me pass. I frown when I am walking to get a sandwich from the bakery. I frown when I am lifting weights at the gym so I can get a nice booty.

When I realise I am frowning, I try to stop, of course. But it creeps back seconds later when my mind wanders elsewhere.

I am going to be a frowny, wrinkly old lady.


She looks cross for a reason though.