Like many people at this scary time, I have been feeling a little low. Not actually clinically depressed, I don’t think; just a little hopeless, not wanting to get out of bed and feeling as though my existence is a bit pointless. I have been lying on dirty bedsheets, eating crisps and not being arsed to throw the packet in the bin: that level of squalor and futility.
Yesterday I decided to play my favourite solo word game, Wordscapes, to take my mind off the coronavirus. It went badly when the game threw up this combination of letters:
I don’t believe in signs from the universe, of course, but if I did, this would be the universe bellowing ‘Get the fuck off Wordscapes, Sherine, and do something with your life!’
As well as wasting time on apps, I have been feeling guilty about my diet. On Sunday I took a very stressful trip to the supermarket in my gas mask and spent £37 on absolute unmitigated shit. I think there was one virtuous bag of carrots in there throwing shade at the rest of the groceries, which were all from the dessert aisle. I came home and wolfed down gallons of millionaire’s shortbread, vanilla cheesecake, tiramisu, brownie bites, flapjacks… let’s just say that gluttony, boredom and anxiety are a very bad combination when it comes to binge-eating.
And the carrots lie untouched in the fridge, glaring at me.
What else have I been doing? Sleeping during the day. Sleeping, and dreaming of my wonderful daughter, who I won’t see until Sunday and whom I miss very much. And calling my mother, whose productivity puts me to shame. I asked her what she’d been up to:
The thing is, I do not feel good when I eat cheesecake and pie. It makes me feel utterly shit afterwards. But I’m a good mum, which is all I really care about, and I think the world of my daughter, and she thinks the world of me. I’ve never felt anything purer or sweeter than our love for each other.
This is the card she made me on Mother’s Day:
However, I want Lily to be proud of me and I want to be a positive role model for her. And lying in bed all day eating crap does not fulfil that remit, international pandemic or no international pandemic.
Added to which: it makes me unhappy to think that I’m so lazy and miserable that I’m being so unproductive.
I joked on social media last week that we’d all spend lockdown ‘lying to ourselves that we’re going to use this time to sculpt a banging body’.
But hell, why don’t I just try? At the very least, it’ll give me something to do and I’ll become healthier. Then I may live longer and have more time to spend with my incredible, hilarious daughter.
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