The Curse of the Duck Face

Before I go on a tangent about duck faces, can we just take a second to love this picture? I got stuck waiting for the train to pass on the way to cross fit a couple of weeks ago and the lighting and the sky and the trains were just perfect. You thought the nature obsession would leave when the leaves died, didn't you? Nope.

And even though this pic is terrible quality and my parents don't know it exists (surprise!) I want to remember twenty years from now that I went on a Taco Bell date with my parents while all of the little sibs were at taekwondo and tennis and friends' houses and although it is so super ordinary (we go to tb all the time. i could probably write a whole post about it. maybe i will. yea, lucky you!), it still felt kind of special with just the three of us.

Ok the cheese fest is over. Let's talk about duck face syndrome because I think it's a condition and I think I have it. I know they look stupid and are lame but this needs to be on here because I make this face all. the. time. I started making it whenever I saw my super close friends just to be silly because we made fun of the girls who did them. Now I'm one of the girls we laughed at. I'm not kidding. You make a weird face at me? Duck face. You say you like my boots? Duck face. I'm trying to dance? Duck face. I'm singing in the car? Duck face. I'm concentrating? Duck face. I'm confused? Duck face. I'm feeling silly? Duck face.

When I'm in a really good mood, I often find myself in my car with my favorite songs playing, a finger in my hair twirling a curl, and a duck face during the guitar solo as I bob my head and pretend I look cool. I have to stop myself all the time and think, "really mal? does this look cute? no. no it does not." I stop, but 30 seconds later it's back again. I'm going to call it the curse of the duck face.

Sincerely, mad