Underwear vs. Overwear (mask)

There are two types of wears that we wear. One is the underwear, and the other, the overwear. The underwear covers the—yup—you know what, while the overwear is the overrated Covid mask that hides our nose and mouth.

They are in complete opposite directions. One to the south while the other to the north. But they do have something in common.

Let us consider that before we move on: if we guarantee to control what’s underneath the under and overwear (private part and the tongue), the Prophet guarantees Paradise.

I never had an issue wearing underwear for reasons that need not be mentioned here (or anywhere else for that matter), but am growing a deeper resentment for this overwear as the Covid scare lingers on. The more I wear it, the more frustrated I get.

Maybe you share the same frustrations. Lets find out.

It’s all in the eyes

You probably have heard it somewhere before. People say it’s all in the eyes. What they mean to say is that you can quickly make out the emotions brimming inside by looking into the eyes. Love at first sight is a common trope that is used to confirm this romantic theory.

I honestly believe that it’s all codswallop and my biggest proof is the overwear. So many times, I am holding a conversation and am looking into the eyes because there is hardly anything else to look at, and I swear, I cannot gauge the emotions of my conversational partner or even if we are connecting at any level. If the eyes said it all, we would be paired like two bluetooth devices and both of us would be on our way, all information being transferred through the eyes.

 Sometimes, I pass by someone and we lock gazes for a brief second. Ask me what thought passes between us at the time.

Nothing. I see nothing but a pair of fixated eyes and a gut feeling that a smirk is hiding behind that overwear. If you asked them or myself to gauge the emotions and feelings of the other, we both would get it right—on the tenth time.

I see the eyes squint, open wide, wrinkle on the sides, but I am totally clueless about what those eyes are communicating to me.

I feel the face is like a map. Its expressions guide you to what is in the heart. The eyes take all the credit because they sparkle and shine, and if it’s your lover, you feel all warm inside like a crackling fireplace, but that is because you already know your loved one.

Otherwise, without the pursing, opening and closing, lip-biting, the different ranges of smile and other small micro-expressions in and around the vicinity that gets covered by the overwear, there is no way the eyes can reveal all.

Every portion of the face contributes in its own way to the feeling expressed at the time. Cover one part and the flow of transmission is disrupted.

 Floppy ears

So you are preparing for an invitation. You pick the nicest clothes from your wardrobe and fix yourself for a good hour and a half. You do last minute checks and zoom your face into the mirror to search for potential micro-defects on your countenance that may betray your lack of hygiene, disgusting habits or anything that may cross the mind of the inquisitive eye that peers close enough to notice it. Everything looks fine and you are satisfied.

You again do last minute brush downs, spray some cologne and drive to the banquet hall. The mask is placed on with perfect execution and you walk right into this and that brother, do all the niceties, and start up a deep conversation with someone you know from years ago. You are introduced to new people and are delighted to make new friends.

Photo by Anna Shvets

After all is done, you return home happy with a full stomach. Before undressing, you take a good look at yourself in the mirror. And there you have it. The elastic on one strap of your mask had caught on mid-ear leaving you with the floppy-ear look. You look comical, and now you are downright embarrassed. Everyone must have seen the floppy ear while talking to you. Now it dawns on you. One of the guys was flicking his gaze to the right during the conversation. He must not have taken me seriously because I looked so darned funny like that dwarf Dopey from Snow White.

Now what? Nothing. Just sit back and reflect on all the people you met at the party, and feel your embarrassment skyrocket.

In any case, the overwear is to blame for the floppy ear and the mental anguish you feel once the mirror told you who you really are; I mean looked like.

 Bespectacled fogginess

For all of us who have underwear, overwear, and eyewear, they know that the latter two are incompatible. The overwear through some chemical reaction transforms our breathe into a fresh layer of fog on our eyewear, and the bespectacled minority of this world is sick of it.

Yes, there are ways out of it, I know. Someone posted a hack about lining a folded Kleenex on the inside under the nose line throughout the length of the overwear to prevent the breathe from escaping upward. It works, and I get it. Thanks for the advice!

 But it also means carrying Kleenex around with your overwear, and sometimes we forget. The tissue provides extra cushion which puts distance between you and the overwear, which is not so bad. What is bad is that it gets suffocating. All your breathe is being re-inhaled, and if its summer time, then keeping packs of disposable overwear on you is a must. Because if you keep the same one, you won’t get Covid thankfully, but you will die from all the germs incubating through recirculation within the overwear. Sorry, didn’t meant to disgust you, but don’t blame it on me. It’s all because of the overwear.

 My ears are coming off

Any foreign object attached to the body for some time will eventually unnerve you. That is why we change clothes for different occasions and put things on and off our body more times than we realize. But the most important: we love showers. You know why?

Showers are nice because we strip down and get a chance to relax in our own skin unburdened by something hanging, attached, strapped, tied and/or shaped to fit on our bodies. No matter how well it fits, it’s not us.

Wearing overwear long enough, and the straps start digging like shovels into the back of your ears. Within a matter of time, your ears are in your hands. Well, that’s how it feels, at least.

 I am done carping about the mask and am evermost thankful that the underwear has never given me reason to complain. Otherwise, I would have gone mad long ago.

If there is anything you can add to this list, post it in the comment. More importantly, find me a permanent solution for all my overwear woes, and I’ll send you a free box of disposable overwear.