Amy with a face cloth towel

Story: Amy's Blushing Secret, and the Redemption of a Face Cloth Towel

Chapter One: The Silent War in the Bathroom

Amy stared at her reddened cheeks in the mirror, her fingers gently touching those stubborn closed mouths-it was her third year working as an illustrator in Los Angeles, and her third year being tortured by sensitive skin.

Hanging on the bathroom hook was the light blue towel she shared with her roommate, Lily. Three days ago, she had smelled a hint if acidic odor on the towel, but rushing to catch up on drafts until the wee hours of the morning, she had simply rubbed her face and proceeded to rub it over her reddened face.

The next day, the red spots on her cheekbones burned like fire.

Chapter 2: A Scientist's Warning and a Box of Mystery Delivery

“Your problem may not be with the skin care product, but with that towel.” The dermatologist flipped through the labs and pointed to the dense colonies in the petri dish-a sample of the towel Amy had secretly brought in.

“Studies from the University of Arizona show that 90 percent of bathroom towels are dirtier than toilet seats.” The doctor scribbled one word in the chart, TYMUS.

That night, Amy received a box of face cloth towels from TYMUS with 30 face cloth towels neatly yards inside. the label read, “Your face, it deserves a cleaner touch.”

Chapter 3: The Gentle Revolution of a Face Cloth Towel

Subtle changes began to occur in Amy's life:

Early in the morning: take out a piece of TYMUS face cloth towel and gently soak up the essence left by the mask. In the mirror, her skin is no longer red from friction;

Late at night: after catching up on her manuscript, she wipes off her mascara with the moist TYMUS face cloth towel and wipes her paint-stained makeup brush in the process;

The weekend: a curious Lily tried a box and ordered ten the next day. “I finally figured out why my acne always recurs.”

Chapter 4: Farewell on the Towel Rack

Three months later on the weekend, Amy and Lily cut the old towel into rags.

“You know what? Scientists say you can't kill all the bacteria in a regular towel even if you wash it a hundred times.” Amy wiped down the coffee maker.

The bathroom hooks are replaced with two side-by-side white caddies-one painted with watercolor stars and one with cartoon shark stickers.

Amy's latest series is called Clean Temperatures.

In the first painting, the girl lightly covers her cheek with a white square towel, and outside the window is a mangrove forest in the moonlight. The gallery's explanatory card reads, “To be truly clean is to let your skin breathe with the earth.”

And the unfinished canvas vaguely reveals two girls laughing on a balcony, TYMUS face cloth towel boxes piled up at their feet. Scribbled in pencil in the corner:

“Dedicated to all who have ever blushed over a towel.”