I Can’t With These Sheet Masks Just Dip Me In Jello

Stop making new things that make me think things are wrong with my things.

Neck masks were my tipping point. I can’t even give cleavage masks top billing because they’re too comical to look directly in the eye. Every time I internet I see a new strip of gooey gel material I’m supposed to adhere to myself like a window cling in the hopes that I stay fresher, longer.

They’re trying to pickle me, that’s what they’re doing. They’re trying to convince me that the right brining recipe will preserve me in my current state indefinitely, like mid-30s women are supposed to make up the population of life’s root cellar.

Let’s ignore for a moment the impossibility of single use products actually making a noticeable and lasting difference. I’m wise to the beauty industry’s penchant for farce. Instead, let’s take a step back, and look at the bigger picture, the one that wants to cover us in Saran Wrap one body part at a time.

There’s got to be a more effective game plan here. I know if I wait long enough I’ll begin to see sheet masks for all sorts of body parts I didn’t know were prone to decay. Shall I spend $50 on a set of three masks for my wrists? My ear cartilage? The tops of my shoulders? You laugh, but I just gave someone ideas.

I believe in efficiency. We’re human beings of the modern world, who have to earn a living clean our homes pay our bills take vitamins tend to our relationships cook our meals wash our clothing work out hydrate be social read books and call our parents. We’re busy. So let’s stop all this puzzle piece nonsense and adopt a full-body approach.

Once a month, from now on, I’d like the beauty industry to dip me in gelatinous matter fortified with whatever it is they use to keep me looking like my law school graduation pictures and just leave me there for 24 hours. Attach a breathing device, hook me up to a nutrient IV, cancel my appointments. That should be enough time to imbue my cells with everything they could possibly lack, and then I can go about my business for the next 30 days without spending one more dime or generating any more industry-related unrecyclable garbage. They can stop serving me Instagram adds for piecemeal solutions and go back to shoving every conceivable subscription box my way. That’s a much better plan.

There is nothing wrong with me that can be solved with a soggy colorform. And while I appreciate a good relaxy spa moment as much as the next person, there’s nothing rejuvenating about applying one face mask and then looking down at literally every other part of myself knowing it’s shriveling at the same time and being summarily ignored. I’m wise to the beauty industry’s nonsense. I know that the logical plan is a consistent daily routine of decent cream, plenty of sleep, and the requisite amount if water. But they keep trying to slap pads of goo to various parts of me nonetheless. So enough I say, ye beauty industry moneyhounds. I’m not falling for your slippery antics anymore. Tend to all of me, or none of me, that’s the new plan—stick to it.

NPR once called me a humor essayist, let’s go with that. Host of A Single Serving Podcast. shanisilver[at]gmail

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