An Open Letter to Strangers

Dear Strangers I Meet on the Street, in Malls, at Hotels and Mini-Golf Courses,

STOP TELLING ME TO SMILE.

I'm not unhappy.  That's just my face.  I can't help it that it looks angry.

And, if I was unhappy, having a dirty old man talk to me would not make me feel less unhappy.  In fact, if I was unhappy, telling me to smile would probably earn you a dirtier stare (didn't think it was possible?  Guess again) and a kick in the shin.  Or at least a heavy-duty flat tire when you tried to walk away.

My face, when relaxed, tends to look tense/angry/sad/scowly.  You commenting on it does not make me feel better about it or you.

So, strangers, when you see me looking angry, WALK AWAY.  You don't poke a sleeping bear and you don't make comments about my facial expression.  Either ill-advised activity is likely to get you dead.

Respectfully,
BW