"If you keep giving me that sour expression, your face is going to freeze some day."
It happened on December 27, 1965.
My grandmother was nagging nagging nagging that I had to run a comb through my hair and wash my face before I would be allowed to sit at the table. I gave her a dark scowl. Then later in the meal she said I couldn't have a crescent cookie until I ate my carrots. I stuck out my tongue and glowered–and suddenly my face froze.
It hasn't been easy living 43 years with this face.
When I was twenty-one I tried plastic surgery. But when the bandages came off, the frozen face was still there.
I've tried Botox to try to get the muscles to relax, but to no avail.
I can't really interview for a job with this face, so I work at home by myself as an illustrator.
My voice is pleasant enough–it sounds a little like a chipmunk–but that part's OK. Problems arise when a client wants to hold a conference call over Skype. I have to turn my camera off and apologize that it's malfunctioning again.
My husband is legally blind, so that helps.
With the advent of the internet, friendships have become easier. Facebook has been a Godsend. I can use a cute smiley face icon for my profile picture.
