By Danielle Maldonado of The Inappropriate Suburbanite

I don’t have a skin care regimen. I don’t own creams, potions or serums, despite being told I’m over the age of a necessary nighttime routine consisting of such things. In fact, my nighttime skin treatment usually just consists of falling asleep with my mascara on and my contacts in. Sometimes I even try to pull off second day eye makeup; I’m not exactly a model woman.

This was until my friend, Katelynn, recently made a stop in South Korea (Like – obviously she wasn’t north of the border visiting Kim Jon-un) and came back bragging about all of their great skincare products. The sheet masks were the most interesting to me because, well, they’re cheap, quick and not exactly what you’d call invasive. Plus, you get to look like you’re wearing someone’s skin ala Buffalo Bill for thirty minutes. And she swears by them so sure, I’ll try one. I mean, how bad can it be? I’ve already shaved my face.

I hopped on Amazon and ordered the most attractive sheet masks straight from South Korea that I could find. (Does anyone else shop that way? By attractive packaging?)

It was an eleven-pack so I figured I had some back-ups in case I fucked something up, as I’m prone to do. I couldn’t get them with Prime shipping, though they did ship free, so they took a while to come in. It took so many days, in fact, that I forgot I ordered them. When yet another Amazon box showed up on my doorstep, I was pleasantly surprised. Yay! Surprises! And they were so cute with such great graphics that I couldn’t wait to open one. Also – all I can afford to spend money on are $10 surprises so this is about as good as it gets.

Once I had clean, dry skin, I tore open a package. Most of the directions are in Korean, so I just figured “screw it, I’ll wing it.” It does say, in English, to keep the mask on 20-30 minutes. Great. I could do that. I’m not sure what all of that writing in Korean was, so I hope there were no warnings like, “For your safety, do not fart while mask is on the face,” or anything like that.

I decided I’d go with the Aloe Mask Sheet for moisturizing because whose face doesn’t need a little lubrication, right? I pulled the mask out of the package a little horrified. It had a strange, wet, almost greasy consistency. I unfolded the mask after a little bit of confusion, trying to figure out which were the eye holes, and applied it directly to my face. Am I even really a woman? Once I figured the damn thing out, it was great because it covered up the eyebrows that needed waxing about a week ago and any other flaws I wasn’t in the mood to see.

I’ll just be honest: it felt like I rested a semen-soaked piece of notebook paper on my face and planned to keep it there for half an hour. It wasn’t relaxing for me. I kept thinking that the Koreans were probably just trolling us, sending us jizz paper that American women love to toss on at night in the tub with a glass of wine.

I flattened the mask out on my face the best I could and decided to go sit down and watch a little Bravo while I waited the thirty minutes. The kid walked in mid-mask and asked all of the same questions you’d imagine she would.

“What’s that?”

“Can I try one?”

“You look scary.”

“Is that jizz?” No, not really.

Of course, I had to spend some time taking shameless selfies in full mask with crazy eyes and snapchatting them to my friends. I was a few minutes into my television viewing when I felt a strange wetness and realized that my neck had started to leak. Yes, my face was dripping down my cleavage. I wiped it for a few minutes back when I believed it would eventually stop but I soon realized I needed to do something. I secured a towel to wrap around my neck like a New York socialite running through Central Park in winter. Seriously, guys. I even named myself Buffy, complete with my black cashmere (not really – just plain, old towel) scarf. Bonus: it kept my neck warm while I watched The Imposters.

Just before the thirty minutes were up, I realized I wasn’t using the nose flap properly and that it was folded backward. Damnit, now my nose tip skin would suck in comparison to the rest of my face. Either way, it was time to remove the strange skin mask and see what my face looked like.

Bummer. First, I didn’t look like a socialite with the towel. I looked more like a fat stuffed animal rounding out a bender. And my face? Totally looked like my face. I wasn’t transformed into a petite Korean woman with nice, straight hair, a quiet demeanor and great skin.

But I did notice my face felt smoother and less “warm and greasy,” which is my everyday feeling and honestly pretty gross to admit. OK, so I could get with this. And I have ten more sheet masks to amuse myself with/hope for better skin after. And I might go through all ten of them before I find the balls to try that Charcoal Mask I’ve been hanging on to.

Have you tried sheet masks? What was your take on them? Just a trend or worth waiting more than two days and Prime delivery for?

This post was originally published on The Inappropriate Suburbanite.

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About the Author

DL is blogger, freelance writer and a thirtysomething mom who likes bad words and cold drinks. Aside from ruining the ‘burbs, she enjoys performing downright disrespectful karaoke, ranting about politics and pop culture and hoping plans get canceled … unless they involve dinner. Let’s get social on Facebook and Twitter and after reading her blog at www.inappropriatesuburbanite.com.