There's Been Some Weight Gain

The pandemic feels like it’s been going on forever. Do you even remember a time before masks and distancing? It’s like how I feel about smartphones. I know there was a time when I didn’t have one but god help me if I can recall what it was like to just sit in a waiting room and… do what? Stare? Have some self-reflection? I’m sure these moments exist. They have to. Yet I’ve become so accustomed to living life this way that it feels like this is all I’ve known.

Now, to be clear, it isn’t like I was a fit athlete before the pandemic. Far from it. But my almost total lack of activity and interest in life, in general, has really made me put on the pounds. I think I’ve gained about 50 lbs. since last year. Maybe more. I’m too afraid to step on a scale to find out for sure. The combination of not doing much and loving food more than is reasonable has really hit me hard.

If you’re like me, you probably have some “fat clothes” and some “moderately-human sized” clothes. I passed the “fat clothes” threshold quite a while back. And it’s never a good feeling to put on a flannel shirt that you used to swim in and have it fit snugly. Yikes. Another blow to the ego.

So what am I gonna do about it?

I don’t know.

That’s my honest answer. Every morning I wake up hoping that some small spark of interest in exercising will be ignited and I’ll throw on a workout DVD and sweat for a bit. So far, it has yet to happen. I accept that it is more a matter of choice than luck or happenchance, but I still cannot bring myself to exercise. Part of the problem is that my year of inactivity has compounded my trouble with fitness. I’m in the worst shape of my life and I’m knocking on 40 and my body just doesn’t respond the way I’d like it to. I have a lot of new weird joint pains. I have some strange issue happening with my tendons that I’ve tried to get to the bottom of and so far have only been given pain cream to solve it.

Yes, I hear the excuses too.

I could go for walks and I probably will now that the weather is a bit more manageable. And really, my eating has improved as far as making healthier choices. But I do have one downfall and that, my friends, is beer.

In order to lose some weight, I really need to cut down (or stop entirely) drinking beer. Each one is like a cupcake worth of calories. And yet, I don’t think I could have survived the pandemic without it (this is obviously a little hyperbolic). It’s been a comfort and frankly, something to do. Winter in Minnesota is hard. Very hard. When it’s below zero for days and doesn’t get above freezing for months on end, it can be taxing, mentally and emotionally. Beer helps. It has since the first German colonizers showed up.

Minnesotans have always coped with this by using the habitable times to live it up. From April-ish to November (some years) when a person can be outside without needing to seek refuge in the belly of a tauntaun, we make the most of that time. Whether it’s outdoor concerts or biking around the lakes, hiking, camping, fishing, or something as simple as just hanging with friends in the backyard for a BBQ, Minnesotans make up for the time lost to Jack Frost.

Except, we were robbed of that last year. With the pandemic in full bloom and thousands of our countrymen and women dying each day, most of us respected the science and stayed away from each other. We hunkered down with Netflix and actually chilled. In the beginning, it was kind of fun. Remember Tiger King and all that? But slowly, as the virus ravaged our country (largely due to incredibly poor leadership, planning, and really just giving a shit) we all slipped into a funk.

Some of you might be thriving right now. And hey, good for you. But for the rest of us, we’ve been experiencing what the NY Times recently described as languishing. I think that’s an apt word for it. I don’t think I’m depressed, well, not any more than I was before the pandemic. In fact, in many ways I think my mental health has improved in a lot of areas. And yet, I can’t help but feel like something isn’t right. I can’t seem to bring myself to care about much of anything. The things that used to inspire me now seem dull. I am wholly uninterested in my life.

I know it wasn’t always like this. Things felt different. I can’t say how with any specificity, but just like I knew there was a time before smartphones, I know I didn’t always feel this way.

Putting on the pounds hasn’t helped matters. Neither has being able to wear sweatpants 24/7. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s been delightful getting fat and I’ve enjoyed every morsel of food and sip of alcohol. But all things must come to an end.

At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.