Normal people go to yoga for a variety of reasons– to relax, focus and recharge their mental energy, for example. I’m sure many yogis are striving to increase flexibility and balance. And let’s be honest — at least fifty percent of the people show up for the three-minute “final relaxation” at the end of class. (Or as I like to call it…the nap that counts as a work out!)
Then there’s me. The girl who goes to yoga because a mosquito bit her face at 5:20am, and she can’t go back to sleep. Might as well go to 6:00 am yoga, right?
Yoga is pretty much the only good thing that has come out of my current mosquito situation. Despite stripping down naked and slathering my body in bug spray before dressing in long sleeves and pants each evening, I look like I have a bad case of chicken pox. Those aggressive little skeeters somehow manage to bite through the clothing and liberally applied bug spray. My legs are bumpy, oozing, and swelling. A particularly large bite just above my left foot has swollen to such great proportions, I creates the optical illusion of a cankle. My booty cheeks have so many bites, they could be mistaken for having butt herpes.
(Is butt herpes even a thing?? I don’t think so..but you get my point.)
And then there’s the bugs in the bedroom situation.
I’m not sure how they’re getting inside, but each night before falling asleep, Scott and I lay in bed with the lights on and kill at least four or five mosquitos as they defiantly buzz above our heads. I appreciate how committed my husband is to our nightly ritual as none of the bugs actually bother with him. He’s doing it for the sake of my face.
That’s right...my face.
Despite our nightly insect massacre, a few mosquitos are always left flitting around while we sleep through the midnight hours, blissfully unaware. I make sure to mummy wrap my entire body in bedding to create a barrier or protection against the pesky biters, leaving only my face exposed.
Unfortunately, my face is more than enough for the hungry devil bugs. As I type this, there are three large bites on my forehead, and an extremely itchy nub in the center of my chin. I’ve lost track of how many bites are on my scalp. It requires every last ounce of self-control not to scratch my face off in hopes of a few seconds of relief. In particularly itchy moments, the face scabs almost seem worth it.
“We should get a mosquito net to hang above our bed.” Scott suggested last night.
I quickly shot this down. I have decor plans for that space, and frothy white netting won’t jibe with the mid-century modern scheme I’ve conceptualized. I’d rather have a bug-bitten face than a tacky master bedroom! Priorities, people.
“Maybe I could create some sort of face stocking made out of mesh fabric?” I offered.
“Knowing you, you’d probably suffocate in the night.” Scott answered. He was right. Plus…my sewing skills aren’t anywhere near the level required to construct a breathable face condom.
“I could sleep with panty house over my face like a bank robber?” I countered.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Katrina.”
Just as I had resigned to slumbering with a thick coat of Off! spread on top of my wrinkle cream, it hit me like a ton of bridesmaids dresses.
I could sleep in my wedding veil!
Genius…right? It’s not like I’m ever going to wear the thing again, and the weave of the tulle is even finer than a traditional mosquito net. The best part? It won’t completely close off my face/head/neck which means suffocating in my sleep is far less probably. Plus, I’ll look pure and virginal while I’m snoring and grinding me teeth at 3:15 am–not like I just held up Citi Bank. It’s practically fool-proof! I texted my mother first thing this morning — she’ll be bringing my veil back to Minnesota with her when she comes to visit for the 4th of July.
I still haven’t told Scott of my plans yet.
(Mostly because I’m afraid he’ll start calling me “Miss Havisham”.)