By Randy Capps
Sometimes, my face doesn’t lie
As a person who has spent a lifetime telling stories, I find it amusing that my face wants to get in on the act.
Let me explain. Recently I found myself on a delivery route. It was a nice enough day, but it was near the end of a long week.
I walked into a store and dropped the magazines into the rack. On the way out, I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass door.
“I hope my face hasn’t looked like that all day,” I thought. I looked like I normally do, except perhaps for a look of grim determination. Or, some would argue that I just looked grumpy, which may have been accurate as well.
Maybe you’ve heard that a face can be a window to the soul? Well, mine is one of those floor-to-ceiling jobs.
I don’t bluff when I play poker, because there’s no need. Any thought I have or emotion I feel finds its way, consciously or unconsciously, to my face.
I’ve learned to work around it, but if you happen to see me looking particularly unpleasant, just know that it’s not personal.
It’s just my face telling my story.
