Okay, that is not armor, per se, but I just LIKE it. Okay? Okay.
Here is when I do NOT pretend like I don’t read reviews or don’t care about them. I CARE ABOUT THEM SO MUCH. They hurt me and delight me and scare me and make me grateful or terrified, depending.
A good Times review is indeed like armor a little bit, like I once mused. It feels good. You feel safe. But that does NOT stop me from sitting in the audience and freaking out over each unwrapping of peanut M&Ms, each fidgeting in stiff leather jacket, each bathroom trip, each cough. I’M TOO SENSITIVE. I’M GOING TO WORK AT A BANK.