In this upside-down COVID world we are living in, where being negative is really considered positive, and being positive is now just bad, there is one tool that is assisting those of us with a panic-stricken look on our face: The mask. I am not here to discuss whether you should be wearing one or not, you should, but rather discussing the ancillary benefits I’ve come to love about the controversial mask. I know there are a seemingly endless number of experts who, too often, opine on why masks are either awful or great. I’m not one of those experts. All that I know is if there is a way to protect myself, my family, and even you from this germy world, then I’d be remiss not to wear one. Now…. the rest of the story.
The RBF and Face Masks
We all have a version of this, just some of us wear it better and more often than others. If complete strangers have taken time out of their busy day to comment on your apparent state of despair by the look on your face, you probably have a strong RBF. What I have come to love about face masks is that nobody knows for sure what kind of day you’ve had or if you are judging them to be incompetent, none of that. The mask covers your fake smile, or lack thereof, allowing your eyes to say, “I’m fine, now leave me alone.”
Makeup or Not
Though cosmetics have been the primary assistant in covering our perceived flaws, masks are now sharing that duty. I am loving the extra time my mask provides as the morning routine has been all but shuttered. Just a little mascara on the smilers (formerly known as eyes) is all that is needed to start the day. Buh-bye foundation, blush, lipstick, you are currently undercover. I never really knew how to use makeup anyhow.
Singing and Embarrassment
The other day I ventured back into my church; catholic guilt always sends you back. With red and blue “X” marks all over the church floor signaling where to walk, I felt like I was looking at a backward traffic circle. After my initial confusion, I went on to commit a couple of serious offenses.
First, I touched the shoulder of a woman and it seemingly electrocuted her as she shot me a death glare right there in front of the altar server. And, to everyone’s chagrin, I attempted to sit in the middle of a pew. Let me tell you, don’t do that. The usher flew over to me like a bird on a worm and a few seconds later I found myself unceremoniously plopped at the end of row number one of a very large church. Though I could feel the sting of heated embarrassment on my face, the mask provided comfort from the glares of the good Christians who obviously knew the rules already.
And then, another perk of face masks was revealed: Singing into a mask has the same effect as belting it out in the shower. You really think you sound good; in fact, you are sure of it. There I was, trying out my new soulful singing voice and belting out the hymns hardly caring about the lady staring at me from the end of our pew. I dare say the mask even helped me to recall the lyrics since germ-carrying hymnals are now banned. Either way, I just kept singing, thinking all the while, “God bless the mask.”
Photos courtesy of Intermountain Sevier Valley Hospital Facebook page.