In Her Own Words: Charlotte’s Buffy McCoy Kelly faces RBF on Zoom

In Her Own Words: Charlotte’s Buffy McCoy Kelly faces RBF on Zoom

Ellen Sherberg, Bizwomen Contributor

As our communities reopen, women all over America see their lives becoming more complicated as they juggle responsibilities at home and at work (which is often still at home). Tattoo Projects Advertising Founder, CEO/CCO Buffy McCoy Kelly explores the fun side of looking at ourselves all day on video.

"Some people look nice and pleasant when their face is in a neutral position. I’m not one of them. Instead, I’ve got what’s known as RBF, or “resting b***h face.” I blame my family’s DNA, which includes heavy eyelids and flat-line mouths accentuated by big fat lips. We are a serious-looking bunch who appear to be pissed off a lot and are often accused of having lip injections. Neither is true.

Thanks to a silver lining of the pandemic — Zoom meetings — I have had the fascinating opportunity to see firsthand what my face looks like while I’m interacting with my team. Everybody knows that Zoom has created a weird bubble for people to talk to each other while being completely mesmerized by watching themselves. Thanks to this strange vanity/narcissism/curiosity byproduct of video conferencing, for the first time in my 24-year career I have literally come face to face with my RBF. This new development has prompted me to ask myself, “Am I projecting what I want to be projecting? Can I do better? Do I actually look that annoyed?”

I’m into self-improvement, and this Zoom thing seemed to be rife with opportunity. It provided proof that my teammates’ questions after meetings, “Are you mad?” and “What’s wrong?” had some merit. It gave me hours upon hours of video conference screen time to analyze and collect data. But most importantly, it provided me with a whole new viewpoint and a whole new way to up my game in how I interact with others.

Along with being a CEO and business owner, I’m also a dedicated yoga practitioner and teacher. This practice has given me a chance to learn about “the mirror of Dharma,” a teaching that explores the idea of looking inward to find the root cause of all suffering — and that others are mirrors, serving up reflections for the things we may need to work on for ourselves. “Your perception of me is a reflection of you. My reaction to you is an awareness of me.” I’ve read this rebus of a quote (author unknown) many times, and my RBF experiment seemed like a great time to really truly understand it.

I began with the easy stuff, the exterior variables. I reviewed Zoom environments for extracting my happiest look. Back porch? Evel Knievel artwork in the craft room? The fridge covered in pix of kids and speeding tickets? I stacked a bunch of magazines to prop up my computer, correcting the angle capturing my chin(s). I blocked and sound-checked. I researched ring lights, filters, fake backgrounds, camera mounts. There were plenty of ways to dress up and sugar-coat my Zoom appearance. But I knew this was going to be an inside job.

As I dug into the topic, I didn’t find kinship in my excitement about the growth opportunities available from staring at oneself on Zoom. Instead, I found a good bit of information online from women who had a whole different view (pun not really intended, but kind of cool). I read about the ruination of self-esteem, outbreaks of facial dysmorphic-thinking, nightmares about enlarged pores, uneven nostrils, and singular chin hairs. It was sobering to learn how this same technology that was propelling me toward an exciting transformative process was simultaneously cultivating self-doubt and anxiety for others. I wondered how my team and clients were feeling and made a mental note to offer audio-only or phone calls when possible.

The Internet told me that it takes fewer muscles to look happy than it does to look pissed off. Apparently, I’ve been wasting energy without even knowing it. This seemed like a pretty easy adjustment, and I like exercise, so I downloaded a face exercise app. I pulled out the Gua Sha tools my mother put in my Christmas stocking a few years ago. I learned about facial pressure points and lymphatic drainage. I jade-rolled. I moisturized. I found that people look at you funny when you’re doing cheek push-up exercises while stopped at red lights. I took my “happy resting face” training regime very seriously, but only when I wasn’t laughing at myself.

But most of all, I became much more aware. I took full advantage of having to stare at my own face so much. I made it a point to smile, on purpose, for no good reason at all.

In a culture where we celebrate authenticity in all its forms, some say, “Why the heck do you care? If you feel happy, that’s what matters. If people don’t like it, F-em!” I’m all about being true to myself, but I’m also all about owning and taking responsibility for the energy I create and the effect it has on others. I am very inspired by the profound power we have to affect each other, just by the look on our faces. With so much anxiety all around in the midst of this pandemic, looking for happiness to share and making the effort to smile are easy ways to spread positivity and to let others know, “Hey, we’ve got this!”

I’m delighted to say that what began as a pandemic experiment has turned into a habit. I now find myself smiling more often than before, and being conscious of at least trying to not look pissed off. We are mirrors to one another, and when we put out positive energy, or make an effort to show happiness and contentment on our faces, we’ll see more of that reflected back to us from others. Positivity behaves like a virus, which seems pretty fitting for a pandemic. Thank you, Zoom, for making me look at myself. And readers — you can’t see me, but I’m smiling at you right now."