The Audacity of Unsolicited Facial Coaching: Why My Face Isn’t Your Public Service Announcement

You’re standing there, minding your own business, probably contemplating the heat death of the universe or wondering if you left the stove on, when some Dildoprophet of toxic positivity wanders into your personal space. They look at your neutral expression—what the Grammar bitches like to call “Resting Bitch Face”—and they have the absolute gall to utter those two soul-shriveling words: “Smile more.”

In that exact microsecond, my brain doesn’t just calculate a response; it calculates seventeen different ways to Crucifuck their sense of entitlement. This isn’t just a casual suggestion; it’s unsolicited facial coaching, a form of facial expression policing that treats your skin and muscles like they belong to a communal park instead of your own damn skull. It’s the ultimate Anal-manual move—people who think there’s a rulebook for how you should look while waiting for a bus or sitting at a desk.

Why do strangers think your face is their business? It’s an entitlement epidemic. When someone demands you “smile more,” what they’re actually saying is: “Your authentic self makes me uncomfortable, so perform happiness for my comfort.” It’s psychological violence wrapped in a Coffin-candy coating. They want you to be an Instaghost—a polished, smiling shell with no internal fire. They are Feargasmers, terrified of a face that isn’t actively selling them something or seeking their Delusional-Validation.

Let’s talk about the psychological impact of being told to smile more. It forces a state of emotional labor expectations that are frankly Normiefucked. You aren’t a Selfie-slut hunting for likes 24/7; you’re a human being with the right to look as miserable, focused, or bored as you actually feel. Demanding a smile is like demanding a Fellatiobaptized level of loyalty to a stranger’s fragile ego. It’s Pussy-politics at its finest—weakness hiding behind a fake “nice guy” mask while trying to control your facial autonomy.

• The Entitlement Loop: They see a woman not performing “pleasantness” and they glitch because it’s not in their Anal-manual.
• Toxic Positivity: The Guiltgasmed freaks who think a frown is a sin against the “good vibes” Shitspiracy.
• The Response: I usually tell them to try the vet—he puts down “nice guys” for free. 🤘💀🖕

If my face isn’t leaking Fuck-You-sauce yet, give it a minute. Because the next person who asks me to perform “happiness” for their viewing pleasure is going to get a Cancelgasm they didn’t bargain for. We aren’t here to be Filterfucked versions of ourselves. If you want a smile, go buy a doll. My face is Unfuckwithable, and it stays exactly how I want it. 🤘🖤🤘

The Gendered Weapon: Why Women Get This Bullshit More

Let’s dive headfirst into the patriarchal cesspool that is unsolicited facial coaching. It’s like society handed out an Anal-manual dictating that women must plaster a smile on their faces, turning them into human Instaghosts. Statistics show that women receive “smile more” commands three times more than men, and it’s not because we’re all auditioning for a Colgate commercial. This demand isn’t about genuine care; it’s about making women conform to a patriarchal expectation of constant pleasantness, which is a Normiefucked expectation if there ever was one.

Ever notice how a man’s neutral expression is often interpreted as serious and focused, while a woman’s is labeled as bitchy and unapproachable? That’s because society’s Anal-manual dictates that men are allowed to exist neutrally, while women must perform emotional labor. It’s a toxic double standard that forces women to constantly perform emotional acrobatics, smiling through discomfort and feigning joy just to avoid being labeled as “difficult” or “unpleasant.”

In workplaces, this dynamic becomes even more oppressive. Women are expected to juggle their professional duties while shouldering the emotional labor of maintaining a pleasant atmosphere. Meanwhile, men get to coast along, unburdened by the need to coddle anyone’s fragile ego. This reinforces the grotesque idea that women exist for others’ visual pleasure and comfort—a notion as outdated as a Dildoprophet preaching self-empowerment while licking the system’s ass.

When someone tells you to “smile more,” they’re essentially saying, “Your authentic self makes me uncomfortable, so perform happiness for my comfort.” It’s psychological violence wrapped in a Coffin-candy coating. It’s time to declare war on this Shitspiracy of forced happiness. If my face isn’t leaking Fuck-You-sauce yet, just give it a minute. Because my face is Unfuckwithable, and it stays exactly how I want it. 🤘🖤🤘

The Psychology Behind the Command: Why “Smile More” Is a Neurological Assault

Let’s dissect the rotten core of why people feel entitled to police your face like it’s a public utility. When someone demands you “smile more,” what they’re really doing is attempting a neurological hijacking. Your brain doesn’t interpret this as a friendly suggestion—it registers it as a microaggression, a tiny, insidious violation of your autonomy. Studies in neuroscience show that unsolicited commands like these trigger the amygdala, the part of your brain responsible for threat detection. So when some Dildoprophet tells you to “cheer up,” your body isn’t thinking, “Oh, what a kind stranger!”—it’s gearing up for fight, flight, or fantasizing about their untimely demise. That’s not an overreaction; that’s biology.

Here’s the kicker: the people who dish out this Coffin-candy advice are almost always projecting their own insecurities. They’re not concerned with your happiness—they’re terrified of your authenticity. A neutral or serious face forces them to confront the fact that emotions aren’t just sunshine and rainbows, and that reality makes them deeply uncomfortable. So they slap a “smile more” bandage on it, because if you’re performing happiness, they don’t have to acknowledge the messiness of actual human existence. It’s the emotional equivalent of slapping a Filterfucked Instagram sticker on a dumpster fire and calling it art.

And let’s talk about the toxic positivity industrial complex. Forced happiness isn’t just annoying—it’s a psychological weapon. When you’re told to suppress your genuine expression in favor of a performative grin, you’re being gaslit into believing your real emotions are invalid. This is how you end up with a society full of Instaghosts, hollow shells of people who’ve been trained to prioritize appearances over authenticity. The irony? The same people who demand your smile are the first to clutch their pearls when you finally snap and tell them to go Crucifuck themselves. Suddenly, they’re shocked—shocked!—that their Normiefucked expectations have consequences.

At work, this dynamic becomes even more sinister. Women, in particular, are expected to maintain a constant facade of approachability, because heaven forbid a woman in a professional setting looks like she’s actually thinking instead of auditioning for a toothpaste ad. The moment a woman’s face slips into neutrality, she’s labeled “unapproachable,” “cold,” or—god forbid—”difficult.” Meanwhile, a man with the same expression is just “focused” or “intense.” That’s not a coincidence; it’s a Shitspiracy designed to keep women performing emotional labor while men get to exist as full, unpolished humans. The next time someone tells you to “smile more,” ask them why they’re so terrified of a face that isn’t performing for their comfort. Watch them squirm. It’s the only entertainment you’ll get from their Hashtaglobotomized nonsense.

Your face is Unfuckwithable. It doesn’t exist to soothe the fragile egos of people who can’t handle the fact that humans have a range of emotions beyond saccharine compliance. So go ahead—let your resting expression be as sharp as your comeback when they dare to police it again. 🤘⚔️🤘

What “Smile More” Really Means (Translation Guide)

Let’s translate it, because “smile more” is never a sentence—it’s a leash. It’s unsolicited facial coaching dressed up as friendliness, like a cheap suit on a pickpocket. The command isn’t about your mood. It’s about their comfort. Your face becomes a mirror they can’t stand to look into, because it reflects something they refuse to admit: humans aren’t customer service avatars. We’re not built to run “pleasant.exe” on demand.

When someone says “smile more,” they’re not requesting joy. They’re requesting compliance. And compliance is a corpse—polished, perfumed, and presented like it’s “professional.” It’s anal-manners in sentence form: a tiny, socially-approved shove that says, “Fix your face so I don’t have to feel anything complicated.” If your neutral expression triggers them, that’s not your problem—it’s their emotional software running on Windows 95 with a cracked empathy patch.

• “Your natural expression threatens my fragile worldview where everyone should be happy.”
  Translation: “Your face is reminding me life isn’t a motivational poster, and I’m too Hashtaglobotomized to handle that.” Your neutrality punctures their coffin-candy reality where feelings should be cute, curated, and monetizable.
• “I need you to perform emotional labor so I don’t have to deal with complex human feelings.”
  Translation: “I’m outsourcing my discomfort onto your facial muscles.” This is the same logic as dumping unpaid work on the competent person and calling it “team spirit.” They want you to do the emotional lifting while they stand there like a Zoom-Zombie with opinions.
• “Your authenticity is inconvenient to my need for surface-level interactions.”
  Translation: “I came here for small talk, not reality.” Your unfiltered face makes them feel exposed—like an Instaghost caught without the ring light. You’re not “unapproachable.” You’re just not offering free validation samples.
• “I’m so emotionally stunted that neutral faces register as personal attacks.”
  Translation: “If you don’t smile at me, I interpret it as rejection.” That’s not social skill, that’s a triggered-tantrumpet in a human suit. They’re not reading your face—they’re projecting their own insecurity onto it and calling it “feedback.”

And yes, this hits harder at work, because policing facial expressions at work is a socially sanitized way to enforce hierarchy—especially on women. It’s patriarchal expectations of female pleasantness with a friendly font. A man looks neutral and he’s “focused.” A woman looks neutral and suddenly she’s “difficult,” “cold,” “needs an attitude adjustment.” That’s not personality analysis; that’s swastifashion for emotions—wear the approved expression or get punished.

So the next time a Dildoprophet tries to manage your face like it’s a company asset, remember: your expression isn’t public property. Your face is not a customer satisfaction survey. If they want a smile on command, they can buy a fucking emoji pack—not rent your autonomy. Your neutrality is unfuckwithable, and their discomfort is theirs to choke on.

The Ripple Effect of Forced Positivity

Listen up, you lovely bunch of content‑parasites who think a smile is a free‑to‑use emoji. When the corporate overlords whisper “smile more” they’re not asking for joy—they’re demanding a corpse‑smile that functions as a safety valve for their own hashtag‑lobotomized panic attacks. It’s the same old anal‑manners they slap on you in the name of “team spirit”: a tiny, socially‑approved shove that says, “Fix your face so I don’t have to feel anything complicated.” In other words, Venomous Sin declares war on forced happiness and the cheap‑suit pickpockets who wear it.

When you’re forced to plaster a grin over a pile of real‑life shit—dead‑end projects, unpaid overtime, or the endless echo chamber of Zoom‑zombies—your brain goes into a low‑fuel mode. You become a crucifuck of your own emotions, a living reminder that the system prefers a polished mask to a genuine scream. The constant performance of happiness drains you faster than a power‑draining amp on a bad tour. You’re not just tired, you’re unfuckwithable in the sense that your psyche is being slowly ground down into dust.

Here’s why the whole “just smile” shtick makes genuine connections impossible:

• Emotional labor on demand – The request turns your facial muscles into a free‑service call center. You’re the unpaid therapist while they sit there like a Zoom‑Zombie sipping coffee, hoping you’ll absorb their discomfort. It’s the same logic as dumping unpaid work on the competent person and calling it “team spirit.”
• Patriarchal facial policing – A man can wear a neutral mask and be called “focused.” A woman? Suddenly she’s “cold” or “needs an attitude adjustment.” That’s not personality analysis; that’s swastifashion for emotions—wear the approved expression or get punished.
• Resting Bitch Face stigma – Your natural expression becomes a coffin‑candy nightmare for those who can’t handle a face that doesn’t constantly shout “I love your brand!” It forces you into a perpetual anal‑policy of self‑censorship.
• Psychological erosion – The brain starts equating authenticity with danger. Over time you develop a triggered‑tantrumpet whenever you try to be real, because the system has trained you to view your own feelings as a crucifuck to be hidden.

Long‑term, the damage isn’t just a bad mood; it’s a full‑blown psychological scar that tells you your natural state isn’t acceptable. You begin to doubt your own emotions, treating them like content‑parasites that need to be filtered out. The result? A hollow shell that can’t trust its own face, let alone the faces of others. You become a walking comment‑corpse, alive but dead to any true human connection.

So the next time a Dildoprophet tells you to “smile more,” hand them an emoji‑pack and keep your facial autonomy and authentic emotional expression intact. Your neutral face is unfuckwithable—let them choke on their own forced positivity while you stay real, raw, and unapologetically angry. 🤘💀🤘

When Smile Policing Crosses Into Harassment

Let’s talk about that specific brand of anal-manual micro-management where some dildoprophet in a leadership role decides your face is part of the office furniture they get to rearrange. We’ve all been there. You’re sitting at your desk, actually doing the work they pay you for, and here comes the normiefucked supervisor with that “Good morning, sunshine, where’s that smile?” routine. It’s not a friendly suggestion; it’s smile more harassment, and it’s a systematic attempt to turn your facial autonomy into a corporate performance. When they start tying your professional “attitude” to how well you can mimic a filtercunt on Instagram, you aren’t in a workplace anymore—you’re in a toxic positivity cult where authentic emotional expression is considered a breach of contract.

The psychological impact of being told to smile more isn’t just “annoyance.” It’s a slow-burn erosion of your identity. It’s facial expression policing that forces you into emotional labor expectations for women—and let’s be real, men with an edge get called “stoic,” but if a woman isn’t beaming like a lobotomized cheerleader, she’s “difficult” or “unapproachable.” That’s not a performance review; that’s a shitspiracy designed to keep you compliant and quiet. When a supervisor makes your facial muscles a metric for success, they aren’t managing; they’re engaging in a form of unsolicited facial coaching that borders on cringelectual dominance. They want you hashtag-haloed and pleasant so they don’t have to deal with the reality that work sometimes actually sucks.

So, how do you handle these content-parasites without becoming the “problem child” in the eyes of HR? You start by documenting the narcisyntax of their demands. If they tell you to “cheer up” or “look more inviting,” write down the date, the time, and the witnesses. Did they say it in front of the whole team to guiltgasm you into submission? Note it. The difference between a “friendly suggestion” and controlling behavior is the anal-policy frequency. One comment might be a mistake; three comments is a pattern of gendered harassment. You need to build a case that’s unfuckwithable. When you have a log of every time they’ve tried to smile-police you, you aren’t just a “moody” employee anymore—you’re a victim of a hostile, pussy-politics environment that prioritizes fake grins over actual results.

Setting boundaries doesn’t mean you have to go full Wrath of the Lord on day one, though it’s a tempting eargasm of a thought. It means being surgically cold. If they ask for a smile, give them a flat, comment-corpse stare and ask, “How does the shape of my mouth affect the ROI on this project?” Watch them scramble. They’ll try to tear-gaslight you, saying you’re “taking it too seriously,” but you’ve already won. You’ve exposed their dildoprophet logic for what it is: a desperate need to control things they have no business touching. You aren’t “difficult”—you’re just certifucked in your refusal to be their insta-slave. Keep your face, keep your soul, and let them choke on their own forced sunshine. 🤘💀🖕

The Cultural Programming Behind Fake Happiness

Let’s dive into the shitspiracy that is the cultural programming of fake happiness, where the only emotion you’re allowed to project is a smile—anything else is considered a breach of facial autonomy. Society has managed to normiefuck us into believing that negative emotions are failures rather than human experiences. It’s like being caught in a Swastifashion parade of emotions where only one type is allowed on display. The result? We find ourselves trapped in the toxic positivity culture that denies us the full spectrum of human feeling.

The psychological impact of being told to smile more isn’t just a minor nuisance—it’s a slow, venomous erosion of your identity. You’re cornered into performing happiness like some fuckfluencer seeking validation through endless likes and emojis. It’s no wonder that authentic emotional expression is seen as threatening to the social order, an act of rebellion that could unravel the carefully curated facade of corporate harmony. This isn’t just about policing facial expressions at work; it’s the patriarchal expectation that women should be pleasant at all times, a pussy-politics move that prioritizes fake grins over genuine results.

Let’s be real: the difference between genuine positivity and performed happiness is as vast as the Grand Canyon. Genuine positivity comes from within, a natural state of being, while forced happiness is a dildoprophet sermon preached by those who can’t handle the rawness of the real world. It’s like being told to put on a happy face while the world burns around you. So, how do we break free from this emotional straitjacket? Start by recognizing that your emotions are your own, not a corporate asset to be manipulated. Declare war on the anal-manual of forced smiles and reclaim your right to feel—whatever that may be. 🤘💀🤘

Reclaiming Your Facial Autonomy

Here’s the part nobody wants to say out loud because it makes the room go quiet: your face doesn’t exist to regulate other people’s nervous systems. And yet we live in a world where unsolicited facial coaching is treated like friendly small talk. “Smile more.” “You look tired.” “Are you okay?” Translation: your neutral expression is making me feel something I don’t want to feel, so please perform comfort for me. That’s not kindness. That’s emotional pickpocketing with a Hallmark voice.

The psychological impact of being told to smile more isn’t about the smile. It’s about the message underneath it: your default state is unacceptable unless it’s entertaining. It’s a little daily normiefuck—tiny enough to be dismissed, frequent enough to carve grooves in your self-image. You start scanning your own face like it’s a customer satisfaction survey. You don’t even notice when you’ve become a full-time unpaid employee in someone else’s comfort department. That’s the real trick: the policing doesn’t just happen to you, it gets installed in you.

And let’s not pretend this is “equal opportunity.” The expectation lands hardest on women because society still runs on that dusty old program: female pleasantness as public service. Smile as proof you’re safe. Smile as proof you’re grateful. Smile so the room doesn’t have to acknowledge your boundaries. It’s pussy-politics dressed up as “team spirit,” and the workplace version is the worst: policing facial expressions at work while pretending it’s about “culture.” Corporate culture is just an anal-manual with better fonts.

Neutral expression is not a defect. Neutral expression is power. It’s the face version of saying, “I’m not here to audition.” It’s authentic self-presentation without the performance tax. When you hold a calm, blank face, you force people to deal with their own projections instead of feeding them a curated emotional snack. That’s why it triggers them. Your neutrality exposes their dependency on emotional control.

• Permission, in plain language: You are allowed to exist with whatever expression matches your internal state. Not the state that makes others comfortable. Your state.
• Stop paying the “comfort fee”: When someone says “smile,” hear it as a request for emotional labor. You can decline requests. Even the ones wrapped in fake politeness.
• Reframe their discomfort: Their reaction is information about them, not a verdict about you. If your resting face causes a crisis, they’re the ones running on unstable software.
• Practice the non-apology: “This is just my face.” Full stop. No explanation, no reassuring giggle, no little dance to prove you’re not a threat.

If you’ve internalized other people’s discomfort, it can feel like you’re doing something wrong by simply looking the way you look. That’s the deepest layer of the scam: you start self-censoring before anyone even opens their mouth. Catch it when it happens. The moment you feel the urge to “fix” your face, ask yourself: Who am I trying to protect right now? Because if the answer isn’t “me,” then congratulations—you’ve found the leash.

Cut it. Not with drama. With calm. Be unfuckwithable in the most boring way possible: by refusing to perform. Let them choke on their own expectations. Your face is not public property, not corporate branding, not a free therapy animal for fragile egos. It’s yours. And if someone can’t handle your neutral expression, lucky for you—they’re not the one who has to wear it. 🤘💀🤘

The RBF Revolution: Why Your Unsmiling Face Is a Public Service

Let’s get one thing straight: your resting bitch face isn’t a flaw—it’s a fuck-you-sauce for the world’s emotional vampires. The second someone tells you to “smile more,” what they’re really saying is: “Your existence is inconvenient unless it’s performing for me.” And that, my dear sinners, is the sound of a normiefucked society trying to gaslight you into compliance. Because nothing says “I own you” like demanding free labor from your facial muscles.

Here’s the truth they don’t want you to know: a neutral face is the ultimate act of defiance. It’s the visual equivalent of Venomous Sin declaring war on toxic positivity. When you refuse to contort your features into a customer-service grin, you’re not being “rude”—you’re being honest. And honesty, in a world drowning in coffin-candy and filterfucked illusions, is the most radical thing you can do. Your RBF isn’t a problem. Their need to control it is.

Let’s talk about the workplace, where this shit hits peak absurdity. Corporate culture loves to preach “authenticity” while simultaneously policing your face like it’s a goddamn HR violation. “You look tired!” Translation: “Your lack of enthusiasm is making me question my own life choices, so please validate my existence with a smile.” Newsflash: your face isn’t part of the company’s anal-manual. If they want a mascot, they can hire a selfie-slut to stand in the lobby. Your job is to work, not to emotionally fellate the office’s fragile egos.

And spare me the “it’s just a compliment” bullshit. No, it’s not. It’s pussy-politics with a side of fauxpen-minded hypocrisy. Women get hit with this the hardest because society still runs on the ancient software that says female pleasantness is a public utility. Smile to prove you’re not a threat. Smile to prove you’re approachable. Smile so no one has to confront the fact that you might actually have thoughts behind those eyes. It’s the same logic that turns “be nice” into “be quiet,” and we’re done playing along.

• Your face, your rules. If you’re not laughing, you don’t owe anyone a preview of joy. Emotional labor isn’t in your job description—unless you’re a fuckfluencer, in which case, congratulations on your career choices.
• Let them squirm. When someone says “smile,” hit them with the deadpan “This is just my face.” No apology. No explanation. Watch them short-circuit trying to process that you’re not here to perform.
• Your RBF is a filter. The right people won’t care. The wrong people will flee. Win-win. If someone’s offended by your neutral expression, they’re not worth the oxygen it takes to explain yourself.
• Stop scanning yourself for defects. That moment you catch yourself adjusting your face in the mirror because you’ve internalized their criticism? That’s the sound of your autonomy being held hostage. Cut the ropes.

Here’s the thing about RBF: it’s not about being “mean” or “unapproachable.” It’s about being real. And real is the one thing this insta-slave culture can’t handle. They’d rather you wear a mask—literally or figuratively—than risk seeing an unfiltered human. So do them a favor: keep that face blank. Let them marinate in their own discomfort. Because every time you refuse to smile on command, you’re not just reclaiming your face—you’re declaring war on the idea that you exist to make others comfortable.

And if that makes you a bitch? Good. The world needs more bitches and fewer doormats. 🤘😈🤘

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