A sheet mask
All those terrifying Insta pictures of people in sheet masks looking like they are in the burns recovery unit and you think, ‘This will never catch on’. And then a friend does one in front of you and you mock her inability to speak and you sneer at her post-plastic surgery 80s appearance and she takes it off and it has taken five years off her face. Who looks like sheet now?
You laugh, right. You don’t need to be told how to breathe. (Like Jane Fonda with her ‘Don’t forget to breathe’ in those aerobics videos that your mother used to do.) You are practically a yogi. I mean you have the Lululemon leggings. Except someone sends you a link to calm.com/breathe and you follow the little blue bubble and breathe in and out and it’s the first time you’ve felt even vaguely sane all week.
Full moon, full schmoon right? It has absolutely no affect… none at all. It’s just weird that the dog goes nuts and you sleep less than usual (not a wink as opposed to 4 hours 34 minutes) and you feel wired, like someone is plucking your inner violin, and everyone is fighting and ARRRRROOOOOOO.
Like hardcore Gordon Gekkos, you used to think me-time was for wimps. What does it even mean? Baths? Scented candles? Trail mix? And then you went a bit mad. Because you can’t pour from an empty cup. And you understand this now.
Honestly you’ve got enough kitchen utensils rattling around and why do you need tongs when a fork or a knife or a spatula or a wooden spoon will do? Except you got given them and now you are tonging everything: the meat, the pasta, the salad, the sweetcorn. You practically tong glasses from countertop to table. You tong teabags. Me love you tongtime.
Yes apostrophes matter, this is a hill you will die on. You love books. Books are the best. Yes you are literally over literally, it is important not to speak in code all the time and not just be LOL. Surely everyone has the time to write ‘See you later’ rather than ‘L8er’? WTF is civilisation coming to? I mean. FML.