The notion of smiling more came from a friend who specializes in media training. As a marketing consultant with plenty of experience in public speaking, I had conquered my initial fears. However, recently, anxiety began creeping back in. After one of our sessions, my friend advised, “You really need to smile more.”
Those words struck a nerve. Throughout my youth in Los Angeles, I often felt more annoyed by men demanding I smile than by their more inappropriate comments. “C’mon, give us a smile,” felt like an unwelcome challenge, as if they could see the real me—the one that was unhappy.
Dressed in my carefully curated outfit—perfect jeans and a flowing blouse—I thought I was projecting confidence. Yet, the catcalling shattered that illusion, revealing my insecurities. I believed I was hiding my flaws, but they were all too apparent to others. My issues weren’t particularly unique; they revolved around adolescent struggles. I often compared my life to those with stable families and picture-perfect homes. My fiery red hair and pale complexion stood out in a sun-kissed California beach town, where the cool girls were all blonde and bronzed.
Despite my friends having their own challenges, I felt isolated in my insecurities. When someone told me to smile, I interpreted it as, “Something’s wrong with you, and everyone can tell.” This assessment was more about my perception than reality. I was the one internalizing the message that if I could just fix my flaws, I’d be able to smile freely. It took years of experience—college, moving to a bustling New York City, landing my dream job, then losing it, and grappling with personal struggles—for me to embrace who I was. By age 27, I realized I was no longer hiding behind a façade.
What I once viewed as flaws—like my red hair—transformed into unique traits that defined me. My sensitivity, which had made me shy, became a valuable asset, enabling me to connect deeply with others in my writing and communications work.
Yet, my friend’s suggestion to smile more brought back memories of that insecure girl. Was she asking me to hide who I am behind a smile, just as so many men had wanted? But rather than masking my true self, she encouraged me to reveal it. “You’re knowledgeable,” she said. “When you smile, you become the driving force of your message, inviting your audience to engage.” She cited research that indicates smiling boosts mood, and added, “Practicing will help make it a natural habit—even on tough days.”
I’m still on the journey to make smiling a second nature. I’ve noticed that when I lift the corners of my mouth, my shoulders relax. It’s a bit of a chicken-and-egg situation: while smiling often comes from happiness, the very act of smiling can elevate my mood. It’s challenging to feel tense while smiling, which might explain why Tara Brach includes smiling in her guided meditations. In one of my favorites, she suggests, “Imagine a gentle smile spreading through your heart—not to conceal anything, but to create space for what is present.”
Creating space for my true self has taken years. Now, when I speak in front of an audience, that genuine smile alters everything. I stop focusing on performance and instead share my insights. As I walk down the street, I embrace my stride, confident in myself. No longer do I need to glance at reflections in windows for reassurance.
Recently, while heading to a meeting in New York City, I adeptly navigated a puddle in my heels when a young man called out, “Hey, Beautiful!” His gaze took me in as I passed him, a soft smile gracing my lips. With over four decades behind me, I realize I’m not the invisible woman society often suggests I should be. But that smile wasn’t for him; it was for me.
In conclusion, embracing the power of a smile can transform our interactions and how we perceive ourselves. The journey to self-acceptance may be long, but each step forward can lead to newfound confidence.
Keyphrase: smiling as self-acceptance
Tags: home insemination kit, home insemination syringe, self insemination