My biggest problem early on in lockdown was that I was washing my hands so often it sandpapered my hands. On the second day of work from home, the skin on the back of my right hand broke out into a rash, and for a week or so it was a minor but nontrivial inconvenience. I made some simple interventions - warm rather than hot water, for example - and things have slowly returned to normal.
I was concerned about my skin again a couple of weeks ago when Boston began encouraging residents to wear some form of a mask in public. My skin's hidden function is to hide the bad skin underneath, and I suspected having constant contact with fabric would have an unwanted effect. Mask or not, I was making a rash decision. Further complicating the calculus was the knowledge that although regular hand washing is an established protective strategy, the success of homemade masks is not nearly on the same order of magnitude from a health perspective.
So far, though, so good. In hindsight, my worry led to overlooking a key detail - I'm not out enough for my skin to suffer the effect of a face mask. I suspect my concerns about my skin are a lot like someone who eats fish once a month worrying about mercury poisoning. A moment of worry is justified, especially in these times, but dwelling on it is another matter, and should only be reserved for regular, consistent, or disproportionate risks.
