n. the default expression that your face automatically reverts to when idle—amused, melancholic, pissed off
You'd know instantly that a bitch face works when someone refuses to look into your eyes as you wait for them to stop talking. Or when it makes people stop what they're doing after you express annoyance with a single deadass look into their eyes.
It's an entertainment that I get for free because respect can really be earned with the way you look. Thick-rimmed glasses, impeccable vocabulary and a look that screams professionalism can get you somewhere. You gain respect, fool them that you're intelligent and make them follow orders.
"Market day is such a pain in the ass."
Banging my head on the calculator wasn't so bad. I can feel the individual keys make a mark on my forehead but at this point who really cares anymore. Why am I bothering to do the Maths, am I this much of a masochist?
Looking around, I try to spot anyone just absolutely anyone that is a lot more capable in doing the list of possible expenses. She grins and waves a hand a bit too much as she beckons the person closer. This classmate of hers was clearly doing fairly well in their Calculus class. Manages to have the willpower to look at his test paper in the subject after it has been graded. Only those who know they have the chance to pass the Calculus test has the guts to look at their score. I do observe that he looks at it with a satifisfied nod.
He's there with an arm wrapped around his girlfriend as they converse with hushed laughter and cheesy smiles. They're eating lunch together. I quickly squash the bitterness already rising in my slightly dry throat. With all the unfortunate luck in the world, he catches her eye. Bingo.
"You can do the Math, right?" I asked as I tidy up the sketches of what our booth may look like, want it to look like using the remaining funds we'd get to buy some cheap materials for decorations.
Her classmate that is priveleged with Math knowledge walks hesitantly towards her. He blinks a little bit more than normal seemingly confused with why he was pulled out of his lovey-dovey lunch date.
It's understandable, it was a lunch break and people do eat when it's a lunch break.
But it's me we're talking about. A person like me is married to her career. Eating and socializing is not an option when they're swamped with so much shit to do.
As I tuck all the stray papers away in a plastic folder, I look up to him and give him a single look. No words need to be exchanged, really, as I tilt my head towards his girlfriend's direction. He gets it immediately as his eyes widen just a fraction and started nodding while taking a seat in front of the notepad and calculator.
His girlfriend is my best friend and really his significant other can do the same job as accurate as he can but who would want to do that. "I'll call her over here, you can still eat together, you know? Just make sure she hands me the paper after you both finish."
He doesn't have to see the small smile I flash towards the back of his head as he works out the calculator. With a shake of my head, I call his girlfriend over and give her a wink. "Eat well, babe," I tell her. She laughs and sits down beside him and proceeds to take his cheeks and mouth gently in her hands and make him take the spoonful of spam and rice. Dorks.
For some strange ass reason, her boyfriend is still so scared of me despite my blessing and approval of him being her smol bean.
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Market day will always be that time of the year where being a mother figure pays its price.
Sitting down, on another side of the classroom, I start to list down another set of possible items that can be sold. A clatter of noise is heard as Jess, my sister not by blood, sits down beside me with a packet of chips in hand. "He's going with you, guys, right?" she exclaims with a gleam as if she knows a huge national secret.
