Cover Your Friggin’ Face!

No one cares what you look like.

The other day, I had to get lab work done prior to my five-year followup with my oncologist, coming up next week.

Immediately, my temperature was taken and I was given a mask to wear. The standard-issue kind that you’re only supposed to wear a couple of times and toss.

After my appointment, I had to pick up a few “essentials” at the grocery store. I decided to wear the mask inside — my maiden voyage in face-wear.

It felt strange at first, but then, I realized that I felt confident shopping for the first time in weeks.

Because I have to toss the thing, I’ve been searching for replacements. So far, I washed a bunch of winter scarves and I’ve also cut a flannel throw into strips.

I’ll wrap the damn thing around my face and tie it. It’s green with red and yellow stripes. Jaunty! Of course, my signature red lip has to fall by the wayside for now, but we do what we must.

The point is, I’m not going to take a chance that some fool is going to infect me like that poor bus driver who recently died after a woman coughed all over him.

People are incredibly stupid. I’m blown away by those I see milling around the store aisles, blissfully ignorant of the virulent cloud surrounding us all.

They strut around in their shorts and T-shirts (in fifty-degree weather, yet), touching everything, picking things up, putting them down, heedless of the fact that they could become infected and croak in a week. Or, infect someone else.

What’s going on here aside from sheer stupidity? Is it vanity? Who really gives a shit what anyone else looks like as long as we’re being protected?

A couple of weeks ago, before my first outing wearing a mask, a man was right up on my ass in the checkout line. And the mofo was sniffling!

I glared at him, shot virtual bullets through him with my eyes but still, he didn’t get it. Finally, I told him to back the F off and he did, but not far enough in my opinion.

Thinking about it, why should we expect people to understand the importance of this level of protection when the Orange Turd in the White House said he won’t be wearing any kind of face shield?

After all, how can he greet dignitaries from behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office if his orange mug is covered?

“Like anyone else, you asshole!”

My God, what did we do to get cursed with this devil? This infection on two stubby legs. What was our crime?

I wonder how many of his supporters have become infected. As they gasp for air inside their ventilators (if they’re “lucky” enough to have one) and wish they could do things differently. Like, vote for someone who wouldn’t have covered up a virus that is wiping people out by the hour, the minute.

Someone whose hands wouldn’t be dripping in blood right now.

I don’t want to get sick. Been there, done that. I don’t want my husband to get sick. Nor do I want my friends here, so many whom I’ve grown to love, to get sick.

So cover your damn faces. Protect yourselves and others. Get creative. Tie a (clean) sock around your face if you have to. Or a piece of fabric. Whatever you can come up with is better than nothing.

I just ordered masks and bandanas from Amazon. They won’t be here as quickly as I would like them to, but that’s understandable. I’ll wait, and in the meantime, make do with what I can scrounge up here.

And I’ll hope to hell that Donald Trump gets a taste of his own “medicine.”

Stay safe and cover-up, gang. And, for anyone in my milieu who coughs or sneezes or even breathes on me…I’ll have no trouble kicking their ass.

What will it matter? Chances are, I’ll be a goner, anyway.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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