On pandemics, and how they eff up your weight loss plans

I picked one hell of a month to give up simple carbs.

Let’s be honest: my 16 month-old is napping, and I guiltlessly acquiesced to my 3-year-olds request for “screen!,” because these pockets of time to sit, type, and shoot – even THINK – are rare. And, given that online interactions are quickly becoming the predominant interactions we’re having with each other, I’ve gotta seize these moments to be “social.”*

We know why. If you’re reading this, it means you’re alive. Now. Amidst the first global pandemic in 100 years. We’re being told to stay home. Restaurants are closed (although a lot of them still offer takeout and delivery, and I wholeheartedly recommend you patronize them NOW). Retail establishments are closed. Schools are closed. Almost everyone is working from home. Families with young children are being recommended to steer clear of grandparents and older extended family. Canadians have been banned. In essence: WE BE ISOLATED.

But back to the carbohydrates. Earlier in the year, I decided I was going to finally kick my ass into gear with ditching the baby weight, and go (criiiinge) keto for a bit in hopes of reducing some of the poundage that creeps back up on a new mom after she’s stopped nursing. I picked March 1st as my start date. I’m nothing if not goal-oriented, so with my starting line firmly set, and my groceries disgustingly void of the staples that make life worth living (bread!! pasta!! any form of cheesy cracker!! JUNIOR MINTS!!!!), I committed to my weight loss goals.

And then?

CORONAPOCALYPSE.

(I know, I know. It was brewing before March 1st. Just let the narrative ride.)

If you’re reading this, you probably know me. You know I’m an RN in a busy hospital, and you’ve likely heard me bitch about long hours, working holidays, a recent strike that still hasn’t lead to a contract agreement, and the occasional assault perpetrated by a delirious geriatric. But what you may not know is the way this global pandemic has intrinsically altered the expectations of this job. Maybe it’s that we’ve been spoiled in urban hospitals in the US, and are only just now seeing it, but MAN. It’s all different now. We no longer have the “personal protective equipment (PPE)” needed to safely care for our patients. There aren’t enough ICU beds in the city to accommodate the wave of critically ill patients we’re caring for. There aren’t enough tests available in the US to simply TEST OUR HEALTHCARE WORKERS, and what’s most insane about that is that we KNOW asymptomatic people can shed this virus to more vulnerable souls, so our unpreparedness is creating an environment where hospital staff will inevitably infect their co-workers AND susceptible patients.

That’s grim.

What I’m saying is: this is ABSOLUTELY a time to stress-eat.

My vision for this blog is to keep rambling about the realities of this insane time we’re hurtling through together. We each bring a unique life experience to this era, and we can all speak to this weirdly historic moment from our own points of view. I bring the perspective of a nurse, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a “millennial,” a progressive, an aspiring educator, a musician, a girl who KNOWS if she and her sister had had easy internet access in their teens, they could have been the Coen brothers, a voter, a white woman living in a liberal bubble, and a soul who has not touched a simple carbohydrate in 18 days. I’ll be writing a lot more about my experiences with coronavirus from inside the hospital, but also writing a bit about those components of my personality that influence how I view this unprecedented moment in human history.

Now. Who needs a pretzel?

*Michelle Wolf very brilliantly observed that “a blog is a conversation no one wanted to have with you.” That was true before covid-19, and it’ll be true after. Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to get together at restaurants and drink too much wine, which completely eliminates the possibility that I’ll drunkenly cut you off mid-sentence to get in some marginally valid point about something MAYBE related to whatever you were saying, thus limiting our exchanges to this. The blog. The conversation you didn’t want to have with me. 🙂