Chronicle 2: Cher Horowitz

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A 90s sufferer of CBF, who’s neutrally engaged sour expression struck her face at the most unexpected moments.  Whether thinking about what to pen for Miss Geist’s next love letter, daydreaming about what to fake-bake Christian or which co-ord she could spare for Tai. She was content with these high school quandaries – yet to any on-looker, it seemed quite the contrary.

Like any teenager, Cher did have some problems that warranted resting bitch face’s embittered glare. I mean, team trying to learn how to drive with working out whether or not you have feelings for your stepbrother – it’s not the kind of stuff grins from ear-to-ear are made from.

But like many other victims of chronic bitch face, Horowitz’s appearance was never given the benefit of the doubt. Did anyone ever stop to think that Cher was just wondering what shade of nail polish Dionne was wearing? Or where Coolio actually went when Rollin’ With His Homies? Working out which mini-skirt your Alaia is going to compliment most is no easy task.

And in those moments of deep concentration, who says that you have to represent a cheshire cat faced with a free buffet? May I remind you there is no rule book that states smiling as being a mandatory requirement of thinking.

The girl had a lot on her plate: trying to ensure your father maintains a healthy cholesterol at the same time as being on a personal report card pursuit? Not to mention being mugged at gun point and having to oblige in your designer jacket touching the grounds of a gas station… You’d think Chronic Bitch Face would cut her some slack. AS IF!

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Growing up in Beverley Hills with wealth handed to you upon vaginal exit, happiness isn’t hard to find. And a face that displays it constantly would be pretty easy to buy. But then hosting a permanent happy face would earn you a completely new title with its own rights. Chronic Creepy Face. Or Resting Psycho face… Think I’d keep the bitch actually. Thanks.

And thus, her moody-not-moody demeanour deserves to be recognised. Because isn’t it obvious – when you have fashion tinder ahead of time, how can you be permanently pissed off?

I’m outie.

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