Ugh. Why’d you have to go and say that, huh? Why do you have to look at me like that? Now it’s ruined.In return, I made a face—THE face, the one I make whenever anything positive is said about me.
One needs to see it to truly grasp the pained expression, but it’s basically like constipated enthusiasm, whatever that looks like.
It’s strained, slightly painful, but I know relief is coming if I just grin and bear it long enough to let my husband tell me how pretty I am.If you’re anything like me, you’ve made this face.Read more on thoughtcatalog.com