The Worst of Us, The Best of Us

“If you can't handle me at my worst, then you don't deserve me at my best.” Marilyn Monroe 

I feel like this pandemic has brought to the surface the best and the worst from each of us. Back in March, when all this exploded and most of us started working from home, I must confess that I was utterly terrified. How would I survive being cooped up inside a two-bedroom apartment with my hubby 24/7? I was certain that this could only end in disaster. And the first week, absolutely proved it. One night, we were having dinner with a glass of wine. I accidentally hit the glass, it shattered, and the wine spilled all over the granite countertop. Luckily, it did not fall on us or the upholstered chairs, but it was sufficient to ignite a huge fight. “Not good,” I thought. “We are not going to survive this pandemic together.”

Since what goes around comes around, and God certainly has a sense of humor, guess who broke the wine glass the following night. You got it. The hubby hit the glass and it went flying. Not only that, there was red wine all over the chairs and on the marble floor, which absorbed it as if it was a drunk desperate for a drink. I could have gotten upset about the floor and the chairs, but instead, I just laughed hysterically. God had taken care of this little battle for me. I also discovered that a mixture of baking soda and water peroxide is a miraculous combination to get rid of red wine stains. 

After that first week, though, I must say that we found our rhythm. I would lock myself in the guest room where I set up my office, and the hubby took over the rest of the apartment. We figured that in order to survive, we had to separate our work spaces. And yes, we’ve had our occasional fights and arguments, but to my surprise, for the most part, we have been dancing to the same tune.

One thing that happened, though, is that the longer I stayed locked inside the house, I began to look as if I was homeless. The beauty salons were closed so my hair was more white than brown. My nails began to chip and break. Makeup? What for? Since I stopped wearing jewelry, at one point I couldn’t even use my rings. It’s as if my fingers had doubled up in size from washing my hands twenty times per day. I was wearing baggy pants and t-shirts because it was just more comfortable than dressing up. And the worst part was that the scale was on an upward race. I gained eight pounds in two months. When I mentioned this to a friend, she said: “oh come on, you are still skinny.” Maybe to the rest of the world, but not to me. One day in May, right before the beauty salons reopened, I looked in the mirror and I was flabbergasted by what I saw. And yes, I get it, beauty is on the inside, but come on, we all like to look good on the outside too.

At that point, I made a decision. Even if I continued working from home, I was going to take care of how I looked. No more raggedy Christy. The first thing I did was sign up with Shape Lovers, a healthy meal plan. And even though it took just two months to gain eight pounds, boy, how hard it is to lose them. It’s as if they got attached to certain parts of my body with cement and I just can’t get rid of them. Three months later, I have finally lost seven, but the last one evades me to no end. By Friday, I’m almost there, but on the weekend, I regain two. What a rollercoaster. Life used to be better before forty when I could eat anything and not gain an ounce. I was determined not to eat ice cream until I reached my goal, but this weekend, my resolve melted and I just couldn’t resist the vanilla ice cream that came with the chocolate bread pudding. Oh well, it’s Monday again. I have five days to get back into shape.

Luckily, the beauty salons have not been shut down so my hair is not white anymore and my nails are not falling apart. I force myself to put on at the very least my rings and earrings. I’m using hand cream to prevent wrinkles from so much hand-washing. And even though I’m not wearing my office clothing, I’m also keeping my baggy pants and t-shirts in the closet. I went on an online shopping spree over the 4th of July weekend, which also happened to be my birthday, and I bought myself a few nice shorts and tops in my pre-pandemic size because yes, I am determined to get back to my pre-pandemic weight.

As far as the hubby is concerned, we are still dancing to the same tune. Even though he may blow up over a broken glass, he prepares our breakfast every morning, which includes a ham and cheese omelette, and a yogurt parfait with fruits and honey. He is also a great chef and can whip up some delicious meals, and when our cleaning lady stopped coming, he helped me clean the house every Saturday. On my part, I’ve made sure not to break any more wine glasses... of course, as part of our “Shape Lovers” diet we gave up wine on the weekdays so less chances to break a glass. Yes, we still get on each other’s nerves once in a while, but after being married 36 years that’s perfectly allowed. Like Marilyn Monroe said: “We have handled each other at our worst,” we have certainly seen each other at our lowest point, and now, we are enjoying each other’s company at our prime. Yes, that is what I have decided to call our golden years... our prime. We have discovered that the best things in life don’t have to be complicated. Ending our day watching “Heartland,” a Netflix show that has us hooked, and looking forward to the weekend so we can have a good non-diet meal and a glass of wine has become the highlight of our life. But boy, I do miss traveling, going to a show, eating inside a nice restaurant, and especially, I miss getting together with friends, and spending time with my family. But for now, I am content. Life is good. And this pandemic... this too shall pass.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.