Peeling Off the Layers

My face is engulfed in a giant baby wipe. Well, that’s exactly how this Urban Outfitters sheet mask feels. I shouldn’t have expected much from the two dollar bin by the register, but the idea of clear skin made me buy it, regardless.

The instructions printed on the back said to wait five to ten minutes. It’s been three, and I’m already anxious to peel off this layer and reveal a visage as clear as day.

As I blink some of this mysterious, 0.03-cent-an-ounce elixir out of my eyes, my mind fixates on the near future. I’d have clear skin; all the boys would love me. I’d have clear skin; any job I ever wanted would be mine. I’d have clear skin; never would I have to ask for favors. I’d have clear skin; I’d be a valuable contributor to society.

Four minutes and twenty six seconds. Eh, close enough. I prematurely put a stop to the impending flourish of “Intro” by The xx.

My bathroom mirror is a mere turn around away. I turn to face this reflection of truth. My heart rate intensifies as I prepare to peel away this layer.

Three, two, one...

Lo and behold, my skin is glowing. Sparkling, actually. Never have I felt more beautiful, like myself. The mask is off. This is who I was destined to be, and I can see her right in front of me.

Until my eyes start to burn. My body responds by coating my retinas with tears. My line of sight drowns in this salty brine, and I wish for the time to come when I can take a second look at this sudden beauty.

An eternity passes, and I can see again. But when I face the mirror once more, I miss when my eyes could not open.

I don’t have clear skin.

Behind this mask is who I actually am: a clueless casualty of capitalism, with sheet mask chemicals in her eyes. Gone is the glimmering goddess, for she was never there.

The face-shaped baby wipe goes intro the trash, along with botox kit boxes, crumpled-up corsets, hideous hair extensions. Try as I might, buy as I may, this body in which I am trapped will never have big lips, a skinny waste, or a long, silky mane, let alone clear skin.

Surely, I’ll have to peel off many more layers before I can become the mask.