I saw the weirdest thing today. A guy got out of a car in front of a long-term care facility I was visiting, smiling from ear to ear.
Then he kept smiling, and smiling, and smiling, as he walked inside.
Not just an ordinary, half-hearted smile, but a wide, face-splitting grin. He didn’t even stop when he realized a perplexed stranger was staring at him.
Was it something amusing someone had said in the car? Maybe, but I doubt it. A smile from even the funniest remark would have faded far more quickly. I suspect the answer is simpler: He’s just a very good smiler.
That concept is foreign to me, since as I’ve written before, I have RPF — resting pandemic face. When the mask came off, people told me I looked perpetually sad or anxious, and I realized I’d forgotten how to smile.
This is a problem, because not smiling can be hazardous to your health. I’m told by smarty-pants scientists that something about simply working the face muscles upwards affects mood, releasing dopamine and serotonin. This apparently happens even if you’re faking it, as research suggests even insincere smiling can lower stress and reduce heart rate.
I can attest to the effectiveness of this. Once, when particularly discouraged, I tried to smile for an entire six-hour car trip, and discovered it to be pretty much impossible to think a negative thought while smiling. It was exhausting, and I’m sure I frightened passing drivers with my maniacal pretend grin, but it worked.
Except for Smiling Guy, maybe we could all use regular smile training. Perhaps there should be a continuing education requirement for smile license renewal, and every stand-up should start with five minutes of fake smiling.
This would be followed by a group sing-along of Charlie Chaplin’s famous song, “Light up your face with gladness/Hide every trace of sadness/You’ll find that life is still worthwhile/if you just smile.”
From the September 2021 Issue of McKnight's Long-Term Care News
