When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

I suppose it would be far more accurate to revise this saying so it reads, "When Polish eyes are smiling" considering the fact that I'm far more Polish than Irish, but it just sounds so much better the way it is.

I hate my smile. I always have. Of all my physical attributes it is definitely something that I wouldn't mind changing. I feel as if my smile is 90% gums and only 10% teeth, closely resembling that of a horse. Despite this personal distaste for my smile, it seems that there are some people I know who quite honestly don't find anything particularly repulsive about it, and would in fact, rather see it than not.

I remember the first summer that I spent in Tennessee, or rather the summer that I spent serving lunch and dinner in the cafeteria at my alma mater, Southern. The guys working for plant services would stumble in around noon sweaty and tired. I recall serving one particular guy who had a knack for making me laugh and therefore producing a smile. We became friends and he still says it was my smile that made him want to come to the cafeteria for lunch, despite his exhaustion. Go figure!

Yesterday morning, right before shift change, Oatmeal's protege snuck onto the floor without my knowing and popped up behind me sometime later claiming that he just had to catch a glimpse of my smile to brighten his day. With quite a bit of scepticism, I smiled and laughed.

While attending Southern and rushing to class one day I passed someone's dorm room whose door had a noteboard up with a quote that read, "Always smile because you never know who's falling in love with it." So if you see me smiling it's not because I've decided I like my smile, but because I figure I need all the help I can get!