If you can't beat 'em - join 'em. And that's exactly what I've done. After six months of refusing to wear a designer face mask, I've given up and given in. I hate wearing them of course - who doesn't? But if I'm going to have mini-anxiety attacks brought on by shallow breathing because a swath of cloth is pressed against my mouth and nose, while my glasses fog up so that I can't see, I might as well be wearing something that looks better than a piece of ugly tissue hiding half my face. So I bought a handmade facemask in my favourite colours.
Up until now I hadn't purchased a permanent facemask because I hoped it would make me feel as if this shit show we're going through wouldn't last long enough to warrant the expense. Well, I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong.
And if that weren't enough to convert me, I don't like the same, nondescript, sterile appearance of the disposable masks. When you can't tell who's behind the mask almost all individuality disappears. Because as oppressive and depressing as these times may be, at least we're not living in communist China during the Mao regime. 
Most of all, however, I miss seeing people who return my smiles. But maybe they are. Maybe strangers are smiling at me the way I'm smiling at them beneath the mask. We need good will more than ever now, and we shouldn't have to hide it. So that's why I'll keep wearing my mask when I should, and smile and breathe all the while. So mote it be.
- g.p.
