When Everyone Wants to Look 22 Until They’re 87
Welcome to the country where two things happen faster than you can blink: wars — and the transformation from natural lips to “please-remove-me-from-the-oven-I’m-done” lips.
Welcome to the country where two things happen faster than you can blink: wars — and the transformation from natural lips to “please-remove-me-from-the-oven-I’m-done” lips.
The friend who always comes when you don’t invite her, insists on staying too long, and throws you into bed with a set of sounds, lights, and smells you’re not ready for.
This is no longer an ordinary war. This is not a fight over territory, resources or national honor. This is not about Hamas, Hezbollah or the parking lot inspector. This is about the internal, real, most instinctive struggle there is – the war between the belly and the cauliflower.
Sometimes it seems like the coronavirus was a bad dream, or a shared nightmare of humanity that we all went through at the same time, woke up in a panic — and then went back to scrolling through Instagram as if nothing had happened. Remember when we used to have heated discussions about which side of the mask was facing outward? When the kids learned on Zoom and the parents learned to count to 10 before losing it completely? Today, when you hear someone coughing on the bus, you don’t immediately jump up with alcohol gel in hand — you just hope they don’t cough on you.