Darian doesn't like posing for photos so he always looks kind of serious (Ok in some photos he looks like he is going to kill someone). Everyone always says "Why don't you smile more?" me included and he hates it! His point though (and if I get this wrong I will re-visit this post) is that in real life we don't march around with big ridiculous smiles like the ones we put on for photos. I think he doesn't want a photo of himself which is a false representation. That is understandable and while I am never all that worried about a false photo (any attention is good attention) it is hard to take one that is not false. I don't think that he ever looks ridiculous but when he really smiles there is a light that comes on in his head and his eyes shine with it. When he 'fake' smiles, while still very attractive, it doesn't have the same quality. But then I wonder how much of it is escaping the fake and how much is just that he doesn't want to bear that side of himself to the world. Don't get me wrong I like that I am almost the only person who gets to see that smile!
I smile often (to myself mostly) for lots of different reasons, I hear something funny, think of something funny, see something amusing etc. I am a comedy fanatic, not loud obnoxious comedy (although sometimes I have laughed so hard my stomach aches over Poo and Wee jokes) but I really like comedy that makes your sides hurt. I don't care who sees me smile unless it is clearly inappropriate (sorry part of my personality, not always appropriate). Boys don't really smile, they aren't allowed to cry (and I don't think that they resent that all that much), can't get excited the same way we can. It is like they have to be normal all the time. You wonder why we women are emotional? It's because we are allowed to be. How fun is the zoo when you can squeal in delight at the animals? A lot more fun than observing them reservedly like a boy. But how strange! We went sky diving when we were in New Zealand. That means we jumped out of a plane! When we got to the bottom I was excited and I ran up and threw my arms around him and was squealing and carrying on. His whole demeanor said 'whatever'. I mean we had just jumped out of a plane, he must have felt sort of like me but nothing on the outside would let you know that.
Need more proof? I live in an apartment building and I park my car alongside two other cars whose drivers are pretty lax about the room they give me. One day the spot was so tight I had to climb out the window because the door wouldn't open. I was so upset because I had tried so many times to make it straight that I lost it. I sat on the ground at the front of the car and cried. I wasn't sad so much as frustrated and angry. When Darian got home I told him that the (and I am going to use a nasty word here) ass-clowns who parked to close to our parking spot made me cry. He said to me that there is no way that a guy would tell anyone if something like that had happened. I guess I had never thought about it before. Besides the fact that something so silly would never move a man to cry, maybe smash a window or slash some tyres (which in hindsight would have been more fun) but certainly not cry. But if something had made a guy cry, it isn't something they would discuss again in a hurry. Which made me think of this clip:
It is interesting how much people are willing to display of themselves. From something as complex as emotions to something as simple as skin. I guess Australia would be considered liberal but the difference between here and Brisbane is immense. It is all relative of course but I would not have thought twice about how much cleavage was visible in Brisbane. In fact the lower cut the better. Here I am wearing high cut shirts because everyone is so conservative. The only reason I mention this is because I just made a rather embarrassing discovery this morning! In the elevator, I noticed an immaculately dressed business woman (I work in an accounting firm so they all look like that) was staring at my legs. A little confused (trust me, there is nothing spectacular about my legs!) I looked down and not only was my skirt on back to front but the crease ran down one leg at a peculiar angle. At least that clears up what she was staring at! I of course pretended that nothing had happened (my hands were full so there was very little I could do anyway) and stepped out of the lift at my floor. As soon as the doors closed I dumped everything on the ground to fix my skirt only to discover that the slit at the back (presumably so that you can walk properly?) is only just below where my underwear ends! One poorly thought out retrieval of a pen from the floor could show my colleagues far more than I wish them to see. I think it will be alright as long as I am sitting or standing. Not that I spend all that much time bending over anyway but still good to be mindful of that.
xox Love to all!