The time I tried to put on my trousers.

After ten weeks in lockdown I discovered the tragic reality to staying home, my clothes no longer fit. I had put on the COVID stone and I wasn’t wearing it well.

It might have been all the DIY food kits we ordered, the baking I was doing, or the anxiety eating, either way the situation was serious. I knew (prayed) that once I got back to a normal routine all the reasons that got me here would fade away and the weight would come off.

Thing is, I’m not mad at myself. Sure, I could have taken longer walks, done more Joe Wicks workouts, snacked on carrot sticks instead of crisps but the truth of it is, shit go weird. I wasn’t prepared for the world to stop and simple tasks, going to the store, become dangerous so I went into survival mode.

I baked, a lot. I ordered cookbooks and challenged myself to make things I wouldn’t normally make. I had my kids help me, standing back while they measured, mixed, and poured our way through the day. My daughter started sending my desserts she wanted to make, my son was able to bake brownies (from a box) on his own. And I ate.

Early in July I pulled on a pair of jeans, when the buttons wouldn’t meet, I laughed. Normally, this would make me cry but I’m halfway through a global pandemic and I think I’m doing okay.

Wish you were here,

xoxo