Doin' Stuff With Your Face

As we're wrapping up Head & Neck anatomy, we find ourselves investigating the oral cavity. This inevitably leads to a discussion about saliva. THIS in turn leads to a colorful dyad between a student and the professor:

Student: "If you're kissing different people, does saliva taste different, too?"

Professor: (pause) "I've never been asked that before. (pause) I think it depends on what you've just eaten or...done...with your mouth." (pause with awkward look on her face)

Laughter and professorial blushing ensued. The best part was that she managed to repeat the "doing stuff with your mouth" innuendo a couple more times before we moved onto the--distinctly less amusing--submandibular region.

Amongst my coterie of female friends, rumors are abound as to what the cosmetic long term consequences of medical school will be, and whether or not proactive use of retinols will help stave the worst of it off. Case in point: one colleague, Thuy (pronounced "Twee"), remarked about a female student who gave the tour of the campus on the day she interviewed two years before, saying wistfully, "She was so pretty back then. Then, I just saw her the other day, and she looks haggard." We all warily examine each other, eyes narrowed, thinking about the current lines on the others' faces and how they will inevitably transform us into our future never-to-be-carded-again selves.

Thuy then volunteered that she consciously avoids using the muscles around her eyes, in an effort to prevent wrinkles. She cheerfully proceeded to suggest that Tanya and I do the same. The conversation went a little like this:

Thuy: "You guys both have really intense facial expressions all the time. And you shouldn't! It makes wrinkles! You need to stop having such expressive reactions. Especially furrowing your brow all the time. I didn't feel like I knew you well enough to say anything until now." Tanya and I proceeded to scrunch up our faces, bulldog-like, and laugh at her accusations. We suddenly stopped, eyebrows arched, realizing the truth in this situation. Then I said, "Oh lovely. I love the idea that you've been sitting there this whole time judging our faces."

In Thuy's defense, she's absolutely right. I furrow my brow a lot. I do it when I'm thinking. I do it when I'm reading. I do it when I'm studying. I do it when I don't have my glasses on and I'm trying to get by with squinting. And I do it when I'm pissed off--like every Tuesday afternoon in OMM class (it's a hard class). A solid foundation for some prominent vertical lines near my eyebrows is well set and visible.

Thuy's husband, however, waved her away: "Don't listen to her. She looks like a robot half the time."

Thuy's response: "No! You guys will be thanking me in 20 years."

So what do we do? We catch ourselves reacting facially and immediately freeze our faces.

Can't wait for botox.