There are a few ‘social’ occasions on the horizon. Social in the most socially distanced way possible, outdoors 6 people, 1-meter bla bla bla, in the bubble, out the bubble, somewhere with my bubble. But it’s okay, Boris said so, and anyway…I am totally digressing because this is not a political Covid post (I hear the sigh of relief) but an actual cry for help. What the hell do I do in a social situation?!

I have gone full circle. I have been for what feels like an eternity in the gulag (can you tell I live with teenage boys) it has been a socialising free zone. Make up, make up?? What is that? And let us not even talk about the hair. I am somewhere between wanting to break free and get hideously drunk with all my long-lost friends to wanting to barricade the doors up and ensure nothing changes. I have spent months dreaming of attending a social gathering, so why does the actual idea of it lie in the pit of my stomach like a dodgy kebab?

It’s almost like I have psychologically come to some sort of self-accepting epiphany. I wear joggers, flip flops and dodgy old t-shirts to do the food shopping. My Pyjama bottoms have become surgically attached to me. I have lost all ability to look presentable and more to the point absolutely feel no shame for it, what is more, I feel some form of empowerment from it. I am a Covid conditioned self-proclaimed slob. I have a routine now. I work, I walk, I clean, I write, I sleep – rinse and repeat. And my routine and ability to do any of these things is not impacted in any way shape or form by how I dress or present myself. How did I ever socialise before? What the hell is this new/old world going to do to my effort free equilibrium?

Am I the only one who feels this way? Having been forcibly confined to my house has actual given me in some perverted and inside out way… the most freedom I have ever felt.
Maybe, it is just cabin fever kicking in. But maybe, there is more to it. What if somewhere on this covid journey we have all become a little less phased by what people think, a little more okay with how we look – the natural, unfiltered, scrapped back, raw and sometimes greasy haired version of ourselves. Has lockdown unlocked our actual ability to give a fuck? Are we all outwardly excited about our first hairdresser’s appointment or inwardly a bit annoyed we even must bother?
I have not ‘given up’ as a friend implied this week, but what I have done is given up on having to conform to feel good. I am as comfortable now fresh faced and make up free as I have ever been. I care less. I feel more confident in my own skin than I ever did before. I am a socially distant caterpillar who is unsure if she needs to be a butterfly again at all. Maybe the cocoon is better than the butterfly house? or maybe I just need to get out more…