It's my birthday and I'll frown if I want to

For Anne, for inspiring this post

People used to tell me I looked younger than my years. For the longest time I found this irritating, even insulting: people treat you differently if they perceive you to be a teenager rather than a twenty-something; there’s automatically less respect. This wasn’t an entirely bad thing, as it instilled in me a defiant respect for teens, and these days I’m always arguing the toss with those who would pigeonhole them as rude or hard work (I mean, they can be, but so can adults and younger children. I digress).

As I moved into my thirties it was rather fun when people said I looked younger. I heard the phrase “You don’t look old enough to …” quite a few times (usually in conjunction with remembering early eighties songs or having school age children).

Of course, age catches up with us all (unless you’re Jane Fonda). Today I turned 44, and no-one’s mistaking me for a woman 10 years younger. It had escaped my notice that recently my ‘frown lines’ have deepened and multiplied. Two men (not strangers, I hasten to add) kindly made that observation for me in the last few weeks, by leaning forwards and attempting to physically erase my frown by poking it. The first time I was squinting a little because it was sunny; the second I was deep in thought. On neither occasion had I been feeling upset (well, until that happened).

After the second incident I went to the mirror, frowned as deeply as I could and thought “Oh dear. Perhaps I need botox.”

And then the most amazing thing happened.

“No you fucking don’t!”, my reflection shouted back at me. “You own that frown with pride. Frowns are great!”

They are? I thought. But then I thought a bit more, and realised, yes they are.

A frown is almost always honest. The only exception I practise is during teaching (and occasionally parenting), when obliged to summon a disappointed look whilst fighting the urge to laugh. Smiles, on the other hand, can be forced, fake, deceptive, pained … “Smile, though your heart is aching” is now widely recognised as seriously bad advice – damaging, even – as the Western world finally begins to get to grips with mental health issues. What is the point of a hitching an unfelt smile up onto your face to please anyone else? Surely that's a pointless as a chocolate teapot?

And of course, a frown doesn’t necessarily, or even usually, signify displeasure. Frowns are way more interesting than smiles. They can indicate a whole range of inner workings that make the smile seem dull and shallow by comparison:

• cogs whirring; deep thought

• concern, even empathy

• emotional intensity

• calm neutrality (aka 'resting bitch face'*)

• determination

• concentration

• sexual bliss – though admittedly, if in public it’s unlikely to be this (we hope)

So why should any male (or female, for that matter) deny any girl or woman that scope of expression?

*And it is only girls and women, as far as I have observed. If a man frowns he’s deep, brooding and sexy. If a woman frowns she’s a miserable cow.

“Cheer up love, it might never ‘appen.” Hands up if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that old corker. Any male hands raised? Thought not.

“Don’t frown; you’ll spoil your pretty face.” OK, that one was my Mum, and it was millions of years ago and it was a different world then, but at the same time I’m willing to bet my brother was never told not to frown to prevent ‘spoiling’ his handsome face.

Even my beloved Nan once interrupted herself to exclaim “Oh darling, you’re frowning so …!”, jerking me from my total, fascinated immersion in what she had been saying and leaving me discombobulated, as if pulled abruptly from a pleasant dream into sudden consciousness.

Now I’m officially in my mid-forties I can no longer completely eradicate the frown lines simply by hitching up a smile. So I’ve decided to stop trying. I’m not going to apologise for no longer looking 25. I’m going to be proud to wear all of my years in all of my face. You’ll be pleased to know I have laughter lines too. And who knows – maybe this year I’ll get my first grey hair?