Wearing a mask is now a part of everyday life. Photo / Paul Taylor
Wearing a mask is now a part of everyday life. Photo / Paul Taylor
I don't know anyone who actually enjoys wearing a mask. We do it because we should.
Of course, there are ample reasons to dislike them: glasses fogging up; inability to recognise people; loss of clear diction; beautiful smiles hidden; they look stupid; they are easy to leave behind at homeor in the car.
Then there's littering; my observations indicate that many people simply throw them away. Anywhere. In parks, on footpaths, near rubbish bins. They appear to be competing with takeaway food packaging.
They can also mask your emotions. It is difficult to read whether the face behind the mask is happy, sad, grumpy, confused, bewildered, fearful, angry, surprised or disgusted.
But we stick with them because it's the right thing to do.
Perhaps we need to look at the lighter side of mask wearing because, if we can laugh enough, we might even boost our dopamine levels and – you never know – our immune systems. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine.
I can't help wondering, for example, what dogs think of all this mask wearing. They probably believe it's because we are not good at learning to sit or stay. Or perhaps it's because we are too likely to bite strangers.
There have been plenty of mask designs to raise a giggle. I've seen a number of online photographs of people wearing coffee filters as protection. Some hammer home their point by writing "Coughy Filter" on the front. Well, this is a pundemic.
Oversized teeth, bushy whiskers or misshapen lips seem to be favourite mask illustrations. Unfortunately, many of these, no matter how creative, do not measure up to the rigorous new standard our government is now asking for so that little chance for a chuckle has gone. It seems that surgical-quality blue and white it is.
I'll wager I'm not the only person to have ended up with the elastic bands inextricably tangled around my glasses. This can happen when you are removing either your mask or your glasses. It's no use just tugging; the problem needs careful and methodical attention and your efforts can look quite humorous to passersby.
One day soon, in high-traffic pedestrian areas, we might see little bays off to the side where people can stop to engage in the disentangling without being jostled. Like passing bays on the road but without the horn honking.
Mrs D adds that earrings add another dimension to this issue.
Another light-hearted aspect of masks is that when some mask-wearers speak, little dimples and domes appear as they talk – in and out, in and out, they go. These must be people who inhale and exhale more strongly than the rest of us. It sure can look comical.
And I'm sure most of us have learned by now that you can mouth bad words under a mask and get away with it.
I wonder whether anyone else has done what I did last week. I felt like one of those fresh (ie, frozen) fruit icecreams, the ones that are twirled into the cone then built to a peak of dizzying height.
Because I was really looking forward to the taste, I exaggerated my movements and the speed of those movements. My arm described a pleasing arc which delivered the peak of the frozen confection straight into – you've guessed it – my mask.
