This just in from The New York Times: Want to stay healthy? Stop touching your face! Your FACE! Don’t touch it. That’s where problems start.
I’m not being cynical or sarcastic. I’m not poking fun. I’m not mocking health officials. It’s true. The article was a wake-up call and has me freaked out … because I’m not sure I can do it.
The headline read: “A hands-off approach to your face is prudent.” It was about the coronavirus and how experts recommend that one of the best ways to stave off infection and keep the virus from spreading is to do one simple thing: stop putting your fingers near the open parts of that orb on your neck.
Like your eyes. And your mouth. And your nose.
It actually makes total sense.
Our hands are constantly touching things, and picking up all manner of foreign particles and germs as we go. To make matters worse, we chronic face-touchers then give these germs easy access when we rub an eye or touch a lip. Seems so innocent and harmless, but it’s like an interstate on-ramp for a virus.
And I’m one of the worst.
I have a million ticks. A million nervous habits. And about half of them involve doing something with my face. I scratch my cheek. Pinch my chin. Run my finger across my eyebrow, or nose, or ear. In meetings I assume “The Thinker” pose with head resting thoughtfully on my hand. Or grow agitated, and do the fist-to-the-side-of-my-face like I’m grumpy. I have ear twirls. (I would have to show you … it’s too hard to explain.) Chin coochie-coochie-coos. (I would prefer not to show you … it’s just weird.) And now, for health reasons, they should all be off-limits.
I’m serious. Because I’m actually taking this coronavirus thing to heart. It has me a little freaked out. I’m the guy who doesn’t normally worry about things like this. The one who tells his wife and daughter that food can be eaten off the floor because if you snatch it up quick enough, the germs will literally fly off. (There isn’t much science behind this theory, but in my head it makes a lot of sense.)
But this new virus has me re-thinking my ways. We all should be. And this face thing? It has me realizing it’s time to change.
Only, I’m finding it’s not so easy.
I tried a little experiment the other day to see if I could go a couple hours without letting any of my “face fondles” get the best of me.
“You can do this, man,” I told myself to boost my confidence.
Then, like a baseball catcher signaling pitches, I proceeded to rub the bridge of my nose, flip an eyebrow, scratch my cheek and then tug three times on my ear lobe.
AHHH! DANGIT!!!
I reset and started again, trying some deep breathing and concentrating. It worked for all of, I don’t know, 13 seconds before the voice in my head started calling to me.
“Hey buddy, my eye itches. What do ya’ say you scratch it for me, huh?”
No. I can’t. It’s un-hygienic. Leave me alone. It’s fine.
“Seriously, man. It’s just an eye. You gotta’ scratch it. Come on … NOW!”
Stop it. Go away.
“Dude, come on. This is getting serious! Now my nose is itching. Right there on the side. Do something, friend! It really itches.”
I read an article, OK? Just knock it off. We have to protect our self!
“OH MY GOSH, IT FEELS LIKE A COLONY OF BEES JUST LANDED ON MY FACE!!! You have to take both your hands and just rub them all over everything!”
AHHHHHHH!!!
“Oh, and by the way, see that piece of gum on the sidewalk? Pick it up and put it in your mouth.”
It’s like being a grown-up 3-year-old.
I don’t know what I’m gonna’ do. I’m trying. Trying to get over my neurotic, twitchy ways. Trying to do it for my own health, and everyone else’s. But it’s a struggle. (Scratch-scratch.) I’m going to keep working on it, though. (Ear tug.) And hopefully I’ll make some progress soon. (Rub-rub, scratch, tug-tug-tug, chin coochie-coochie-coo.)