I love wearing a mask. Is it because it covers my jawline acne? Maybe! But also, it feels like a Thunder Shirt for my face. A longtime sufferer of social anxiety, partly because I’ve been told since I was little that I “hide nothing” with my expressions, mandatory masks, in a weird twist, make me feel free. You can’t see me! Or, more importantly, my thoughts, feelings, or literally anything about my hiccuping brain of which I am in constant fear of judgment and ridicule. At the same time, I am what some call a loudmouth, so not only does my face give everything away, if you so happen to miss my visage’s opinion, my mouth will gladly fill you in. A mask has the muting effect – of voice, of . . . face – that I need to move about in the world causing somewhat lesser offense than usual.

“But it’s summer!” you say, “It is hot. How can you stand wearing a mask when it’s hot? We all know you hate the sun!” First, go back up and reread the last paragraph; I can’t emphasize enough how I struggle to keep maintain the presentation of even a slightly normal person. I can’t get over how calming it is not to feel like I have to be constantly considering how my face looks all of the time – not because I’m vain (which I am – very, very vain), but because of how stricken I become when I think I gave someone a “rude look.” In fact, one of my odd habits for most of my life has been making what I refer to as a “hair mustache,” absentmindedly covering half my face with my hair, the point of which I never really understood until I was so into masks.

Maybe Hair Mustache is my sad brain’s way of protecting those around me from my very readable face, except that every time I’m caught, I legit flip it away from my face in a way that quite honestly makes it all the more dumber.

Secondly, consider again my sun hatred, expand upon the possibilities of protection for such a foul beast, and tell me how on earth I’d be unhappier looking like a 1950s megastar on her honeymoon on a yacht off the coast of Monaco?

Third – you’re also really overestimating how much time I spend outside. Truthfully, I absolutely love nature, but I also respect it. I know that bitch wants us all dead, and rightfully so. When it’s 95 degrees out with 70% humidity, that’s Mother Earth’s way of getting us to sit. Down. Pack up your tent, put your flip-flops back on and put the cooler back in the car, stop screaming from the depths of a cave, you’re not supposed to be here.

The only civilizations that survive in extreme weather are able to do so because they adapt to it – we literally as a nation can’t adapt to going to Target less than three times a week, do you think we should be out galavanting in Hell weather? Also, remember that thing that you’re not supposed to anywhere? I just . . . this is such a gift, guys. Don’t forget about when winter comes, we’ll all be so toasty!

Why are we even using our own faces to project ourselves anyway? I mean, what does that dumb face of ours even really express? Again: Feelings? Ew, gross, no thanks. This mask shows more of who I am than literally any expression I make.

In fact, if you took that mask off of my face in the grocery store you would most likely reveal the exact same expression as Little Edie.

Sure, much like message tees, masks may become a substitute for a personality, but quite frankly I’m fine with that. Nothing is real, humans are changeable, etc. Here’s a thought exercise: If you wouldn’t date someone for wearing a mask with a particular message, would you date someone for wearing one with a message you enjoy? See, I bet you would.

“How would I get away with a Spaceballs mask at work, Katie?” you ask. First, I don’t know your life; there’s a decent chance you could get away with it, because that is an old movie, and those TikTokkers you work with might think it’s an art film from Romania. Who knows. But you could also pick a single aesthetic you like on RedBubble and just buy, like, 7 of them to be both consistent and un-boring. I wear mostly black/dark colors, but a mask of that exact scheme would be more Bane-like than I care to be.

I settled on what I figured as a decent in-between movie villain and trying-to-ignore reality-with-pastels and got some florals.

I didn’t think this order was indicative of a personality, but RedBubble decided it was, and sent me this email a week after I ordered:

I am, as are many of us, A Moody Floral. (Though I think “witch” sums it up more succinctly and less snootily.)

At the end of the day, if you can’t find a mask that reflects your actual personality, experiment to create a whole new one, like this creepy cartoon alien thing I had had no idea was hiding inside me.

Long story longer, this is my time to (not) shine. A soft, cozy blanket right across the part of me that causes the most stress? Bliss. Helps prevent the spread of highly contagious and deadly disease, the thought of which also causes, uh, a bit of stress? Perfection. And just think – I bet some day we’ll get to sell our masks to eager hipster kids who want to old-school protect themselves from whatever plague is waiting in the recesses of their  future iDooDads. As grizzled survivors, we shall roll our eyes at their refusal to wear their light yet airtight Disease Repelling FlexiHelmets in favor of our humble cloth masks with Roseanne Roseannadanna and Animaniacs characters.

It’ll be amazing.