My Love-Hate Relationship with COVID’s Gone Belly Up
Leaving a bad taste around my waist.
I got on the scale today and burst into tears.
All the weight I had lost during COVID was back.
Actually, I think it’d been hiding in my bathroom cupboard. ’Cause I made the mistake of leaving that cupboard open after a half-hearted attempt to clean it out.
I didn’t see it in there, so it must have been hiding way in the back. But when I stepped on the scale, wham! The last of the remaining poundage to get me back up to my pre-covid level came slamming back on in one swell foop!
Not fair! Not fair!
After all, when I went out to dinner last night and ordered the butternut squash ravioli with walnuts, I brought almost half of it home.
And when we passed the decadent chocolate cake around, I only took two spoonfuls at a time. It’s not like I ate the whole cake. I only ate part of two plus some Creme Brule.
True, I had two pieces of the warm bread they brought out to dip in the gold and bronze mix of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. But still! It wasn’t like a drowned it in real butter as I’m wont to do.
I’ve been frugal about eating out during COVID.
Not because I needed to count pennies. Or watch my weight — until now.
But because my friends and I were being extra careful. Even after being double vaccinated and double boosted, we still had to contend with the stealth Omicron virus.
And the fact that some people seem to think the pandemic is over. Or at least, they act like it.
Can’t say as I blame them. We’re all tired.
Tired of breathing through a mask. Tired of staying six feet apart, hug-starved. Tired of hiding inside on beautiful summer days when normally we’d be out there swimming, boating, kind, shopping, etc.
And then, before or after dancing under the stars, tasting the delicious local culinary opportunities from around the world. Thai, Vietnamese, Mexican, Ethiopian, Greek, Italian, Salvadorian, Peruvian, French, German, Japanese sushi, and Brazilian — just to name a few of the obvious ones!
Makes sense, right? After all, we’ve been starving for this tasty goodness. And those delectable places have been starving for us — their loyal fans or customers.
When COVID First Hit….
I remember the exact day we went on lockdown here locally. March 17, 2020. Saint Patty’s Day. Instead of the luck o’ the Irish parading down the street, we had these invisible deadly molecules against which we were defenseless. We even had to forgo our annual green beer.
That’s scary.
And I was scared.
This was all so new and deadly. Remember when walking outside could now kill us? Shopping was a risk. So much so that I stocked up to make the trips out less frequent.
Empty shelves where the toilet paper was supposed to be did not help my panic. People were getting sick, being ventilated in ICUs, and dying.
Even the ones who didn’t believe it was real were dying. Rage-filled doubt did not save them. It was as if the virus was saying, oh you don’t believe me, do you? Well, how’s this?
So I believed. But that didn’t help my fear one iota. It made it worse.
And Me Depressed
The longer this craziness went on, the more depressed I got. There was no end in sight and it seemed to take forever to get vaccinations made and distributed. Political footballing did not help.
I didn’t admit my fear and depression to myself. Instead, I coped by staying busy. Going about my day as best I could, spending more time on Zoom than ever. In fact, COVID made me proficient in Zoom-ology.
My body tensed and slumped as I sat at the computer for longer periods.
Loss of appetite was the main symptom of my repressed fear and depression. I would drink tea all day long, maybe with some protein powder in it. And eat a light supper. For the first few months.
Every morning I’d be a half pound or a pound lighter. Or so it seemed.
That’s never happened before.
Since I was bout 15 pounds overweight, I loved it. That reinforced the not eating. Which helped me shed more weight, which reinforced more not eating, etc.
Little did I know those pounds were hiding under the sink, biding their time, messing up my cupboard.
Enter the Snack Bag….
A few months into COVID, they were no longer saying this would only be a month or two. Looked like we were settling in for a longer haul.
We never imagined it would be THIS long, of course.
Thank God.
That would have tipped the scale into full-blown meltdown territory for sure. I’d have been ready for the nice young men in their clean white coats to come take me away.
But by this time, I’d gotten used to this new way of life.
I coped with now slightly lower level stress in my usual way — emotional eating.
Since I’d gotten used to spending the whole day writing and zooming and reading and clapping and writing and zooming and…I stashed me a snack bag under my desk.
Healthy snacks mostly.
Raw almonds for protein and alkalinity. Roasted unsalted sunflower seeds. Oh and prunes which are not only good for digestion but also my osteoporosis for some reason. An occasional cheese stick.
Oh and some chocolate chips. Good for…vitamin C. C for chocolate right?
So bit by bit, the pounds snuck back on.
Maybe sneaking is not the best word for it. But I hit a nadir in reverse. The low point, maybe down to 110. For a few minutes. Before it started on the way back up. Like mountain climbers. Do they hang out long at the top of Everest in that freezing cold thin air?
Nope. They head back down. Where the accolades are waiting for them. And the press.
So that’s what my body did. In reverse.
Once it hit the low point, it didn’t linger. It started climbing back up. In broad daylight. The numbers on the scale don’t lie. They nag or brag or insult or tease. Or please. But they don’t lie.
Especially today.
After the rude wham bam, I could almost hear the tada! Or a we’re baaack! Or na ne na ne na na, you can’t lose us!
Now if this meant the pandemic was over, It might be worth it. Maybe.
In fact, if it made the virus go away, I’d wear the extra fifteen pounds with pride. Winning one for the Gipper and all that.
But no, that’s not how it rolls. The rolls of fat do not mean the virus has vanished. Sadly. Sorry folks.
What now? A take-home lesson for ya:
You know that saying, what goes up must come down? Like those mountaineers in the Himalayas.
Well, turns out, the opposite is true. What goes down, must come up. Not even gravity can help combat the escalating numbers on the scale.
My fear is, that it won’t stop climbing, COVID or no COVID.
What’s a sorta health conscious compulsive blogger to do?
Go dive into the chocolate? (Why do you think they call it Godiva?)
Oops. Not.
I know! I’ll write a blog post. In case anyone can relate…
Marilyn Flower writes humor to laugh the changes she wants to see and make. She’s the author of Creative Blogging: Ninja Writers Guide to Character Development and Bucket Listers, Get Your Brave On. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!