Don’t Blame 2020
For Stinky Sweat Pants Couch Potatoes
So, bottom line, 2020 was not the year that anyone expected. Think back to your hyperbolic New Year’s Resolutions. Trim some weight, find true love, finally make your dreams come true. Well, that certainly was a bust.
Maybe you’re not like me. Perhaps you survived the year relatively unscathed. Me, on the other hand? I let 2020 wreck me in a number of ways. I know I should blame myself, but instead, I’ll focus on the real culprit. That’s right, it’s the apocalypse mentality. You know what I mean.
Some social scientists refer to it as the “I just don’t give a rat’s ass syndrome.”
2020 was the end of an era. Or maybe, the beginning, depending on how you’re looking at it. I stayed home in my sweatpants. Sometimes I wore them for days on end. I let my grey roots come in. When it got really bad, I ran to the store for some root touchup. I cooked and ate, like there was no tomorrow.
My gym was closed, opened for a hot minute, then got coded into a “red zone” and was forced to close again. So instead, I got hooked on Netflix and became a couch potato, addicted to nachos and Doritos. I tried to remember the seven deadly sins that might apply but could only come up with Sloth and Gluttony.
I did a little better in August, September and October when we had some lovely weather and temps soaring to 70. But the chilly weather is arriving and I’m searching for those sweat pants. I think my husband hid them on me. I’ll fix his wagon.
© Connie Song 2020. All Rights Reserved.
