No kidding. I’m ready to run my face mask over with my car. I’m sick of wearing it. Why? Because it messes with everything. If you’ve gotten your hair cut lately, you know how disheartening it is when the stylist whips you around for the big “reveal” and you’re like “Whatever, I’m wearing a mask.” Or if you’ve gotten dressed lately to actually leave the house you’ve probably had the experience of walking out the door and having it dawn on you that your f*cking mask clashes with your awesome outfit.
Oy vey. Enough already.
I’m tired of looking like the Lone Ranger. I’m tired of my face clashing with my clothes. I want people to know I’m smiling at them without giving myself (more) crow’s feet, and I want whoever is smiling at me to be able to do so without worrying they’re giving themselves crow’s feet.
In short, I want masks to return to their proper places: operating rooms and Halloween costumes.
You know what else I’m tired of? I’m tired of being unable to hug people, particularly people I haven’t seen since March. I’m a hugger, dammit, and I’m willing to bet you are too. Hugs are essential! They’re crucial to our physical and mental health.
Which may be why I’m down a quart in both those departments.
There. I’ve diagnosed it. My physical and mental health are on the decline due to a dearth of hugs.
No hugging. Masks that do nothing for my clothes and make me look like John Dillinger to boot. (Sure, I could rob a bank, but since I’m not comfortable going to the store how will I spend what I stole?)
To be clear, in case you’re concerned, I wear my mask and I do the elbow thing. But I swear, as soon as this is over I’m hugging everyone I set eyes on and I’m crushing my mask with my car. And riddling it with bullets. And setting it on fire.
I can do it for you, too. You know where to find me. Just stick that mask in the mail.
P.S. In honor of the recent anniversaries of both my books, I’m hosting a Labor Day Sale. From 8 am Saturday morning the 5th until 7:59 pm that night, you can get my new book, Make Peace with Your Grief and Watch Where It Leads You, on Kindle for just 99 cents. Go out to Amazon, type in McCorkindale (or click this link), and it’ll pop right up. The book doesn’t come with a mask, but I’ll bet you knew that.