Distracting Face Masks

Distracting Face Masks

By Hannah Taub 

As always happens when you decide to work on a class project with friends, our group was distracted. My group members and I hadn’t touched our Google document in about ten minutes, when one of them suddenly yelled, “face masks!”

“Spa night begins,” Claire announced. She ran into the other room and came back with a box of slim, multicolored packets, covered with Chinese characters. My other oormates had heard the call and we gathered around. We all then pounced on the “flavors” that drew our eye.

There was pomegranate, honey, rice, green tea and a mysterious one called “Hija” that we all avoided. I opted for rice, and quickly peeled open the package before I could further contemplate the likelihood of the face mask causing me to break out in hives.

The mask was sticky and cold, in a somewhat un-refreshing way. It reminded me vaguely of Wet Ones--those damp towelettes that your mom always takes on plane rides. It had convenient holes for eyes, nose and mouth; although, the mouth hole was about three times the size of any mouth imaginable. I was too grossed out by the texture to smooth it onto my face, so it kind of hung loosely for about 10 minutes while my friends and I laughed at each other’s ridiculous ghost faces.

After peeling it off, I didn’t feel any tingly or dry sensation, as I have with other face masks.
Instead, I felt vaguely itchy and oily and quickly rinsed off my face. I can’t say I saw or felt much of a difference in my face over the next few hours or days, but it was worth the $1.20 to take selfies with the mask on and make fun of my friends. We even nished our project that night, although we painted our nails first—naturally.