I like to think I’m a happy person.
I laugh loudly, and usually inappropriately. So much so that I’m definitely going to Hell.
When I smile, it comes from my whole body; I can feel it, literally, in my toes.
I have a smile for everybody (unless you seriously piss me off) and have no problem with handing them out to anyone and everyone I pass in the street. I don’t even have to meet them, just walk by.
For the record, I hate my smile. I’m not one of those blonde, sunny people, with a mouthful of straight teeth that sparkle when they smile, even on overcast days.
No, my smile makes my chubby cheeks squish my eyes up and cause them to vanish into my head. I have thin lips that are slightly wonky and … well, it’s not terribly becoming. I often wonder if people really get how big my smile is, or if I just scare them a lot.
I hate my smile, but I love to smile. In a face that’s not really designed to convey just how big the smile really is.
(I also like to think that my laugh is one that others a drawn to describe as “infectious”. Unfortunately, it sounds remarkably like a demented chicken and causes people to stop laughing and give me a funny look. It is also possible that’s not all due to the sound of my laugh, but what I’m actually laughing at; generally something inappropriate where laughing is just uncalled for. Still, I’d like to think of it as “an infectious laugh.)
It’s also my downfall.
It gets me into more trouble than … well, I was going to say “than it’s worth” but I think every smile is worth loads, so that statement doesn’t really work.
It is, to one extent, a facade; the facade that tells the world that I’m not just ok, I’m doing great.
On the other side of the fence, it is just me, just who I am, just what I do.
The facade is hurting me though, it’s making me tired … oh, so tired.
My smile is a genuine gift, to be felt as much as seen, to be taken and used to make your day better, to show you I love you or to convey a gratitude that you have done something to make me happy.
When I smile I mean it.
How am I going, you might ask.
“Fantastic!” I reply. The smile is real, the response isn’t always.
Fantastic, you see, is the image I want to project to the world; the intention I am setting for my day; the kind of day I am ‘attracting’ and, therefore, the kind of day I will have.
It is a little bit of fake it till you make it