The moment is here. The answer to life, the universe, and everything. And no, it’s not 42.
For nearly three decades the world at large has been contemplating the same question, a question that has bothered people even if they weren’t aware that that’s what was bothering them. I’m referring, of course, to the age old question of, “How do we get Tatiana to shut up?!” Oh people have tried throughout the years, trust me. They’ve attempted everything: walking away, pawning me off on another unsuspecting soul (usually in the guise of, “Hey have you met so-and-so, he, uh, he’s never seen Star Wars.”, then running away), movie theaters, the silent cars on trains, continuously offering me food so that I don’t have a chance to stop chewing, and, logically, just telling me to stop talking already. Nothing has worked.
I decided to try out one of those relaxing clay face masks today. Now I’ve used my fair share of face masks, but most have been in gel form. This one had more of a soft concrete consistency. I could feel it harden around my face, mummifying my skin until it turned to stone. I was sitting in the living room playing on my iPad while Marcel was watching a football game (real football for all you gringos out there imagining the abomination that is “American Football”). I decided to ask him who was playing since it had been about 5 minutes since I’d last spoken and my vocal cords were starting to shrivel up. I realized I couldn’t. I tried to open my mouth just a smudge but I could feel my face cracking like a freeway during the big one. Oh my gato. I couldn’t talk! Then I thought that’s okay, I’ll text him. But then I realized once I did he’d say something to make me laugh and my whole face would explode supernova style.
So there I was. Immobilized. Panicking. Voiceless. And Marcel, oblivious to my turmoil, sat there probably thinking this was the quietest the house had been since March 2016. He still doesn’t know. The only sound in the house is the game on the television.
I know that in revealing my Achilles Heel I’m opening myself up to exploitation. I can only imagine that once Marcel finds out, every drawer in this house will be stocked to the brim with clay face masks. And every other day he’ll tell me, “My love you’ve worked so hard, you should treat yourself a bit, I’ll grab the mask”.
My only consolation is that this weakness was revealed too late for my family to be able to use it. Muahaha!