Lifting Lockdown -Week 3

The week didn't get off to the best of starts. Monday morning saw me crying because I couldn't do up the zipper of my favourite pair of smart office trousers. It was particularly upsetting because the reason that they were my favourite pair was that they were my most comfortable and indeed roomy around the waistband area. No more was this the case.😭😭😭
     "When I get back from the office, I'm going to throw every (sniff) biscuit (sniff) in the bin and ..... and as for the wine ..... (sniff) ..... it's gonna have to go down the drain."
     "I haven't got time to talk about this now, Daisy. I should have left for work five minutes ago and I can't find my bloody mask," John said, rummaging wildly around in the pile of clean laundry. "Just don't do anything that you'll regret. Especially with the wine."
     "What the hell am I supposed to wear?" I sobbed. "The fucking duvet cover?"
     "Will you stop being dramatic, Daisy!" he snapped. "Pull yourself together and help my find my mask. If we don't find it, you'll really have something to cry about when I'm dead and gone!"
     "Yes John. I'm the one who needs to stop being dramatic," I said, instantly locating his damn mask on the bedside cabinet and pinging it at him by way of the elasticated ear straps.
   
"Hmm. Nice dress!" was Olivia's greeting as I entered the office.
     Don't bite, Daisy. Don't bite.
     "Thanks," I said, through  extremely gritted teeth.
     "It's more kind of ...... informal and mumsy than your usual office-wear. It's good to have a change of image every now and again."
     "Ok. Ok. So I've put on a couple of pounds. Who hasn't? Just .... get over it, Olivia."                     
      "Touchy!" she said, eyeing Antonio, before turning back to her computer screen.
     "I'm sorting it. You watch. I'll be back to my old pre-lockdown self before you know it."
     "I guess you won't want one of these?" said Antonio, producing a box containing three glittery, pink cupcakes.
     "No," I said firmly. "Being good."
     "Olivia?"
     "Thank you, Antonio," she said, selecting one with Jelly Tots on top. "You know, I think I might have actually lost weight while I've been away from you." She took a massive lick of creamy topping.
     "Me too. Daryl's given me a good workout every day," he said with a big wink.
     I hate you both!!!

     "Can't we have pizza tonight?" Marcus moaned.  "This is the second night running that you've made us eat leaves."
     "We've got into some bad habits recently, kids. I'm just trying to get us back on track, that's all."
     "I don't see why we should all have to suffer, just because you've gotten fat!" he said, poking at a cherry tomato, while sporting an expression of distaste.
     "Marcus!" John jumped in to defend me. "You're mother has not gotten fat!"
     "Thank you."
     "She's just feels like she's ..... carrying a small amount of excess ....." he waggled his fork around, clearly searching for a diplomatic word, " ..... timber."
     I heard Cleo gasp and Molly say, "Uh oh."
     "That's it!" I snapped, jumping to my feet. "Do what you like. The lot of you. You can eat your whole bodyweights in junk food for all I care.  I'm going out for a run."
     I heard John ask, "What did I say?" before I slammed the kitchen door.
    He waited until the kids were settled in their bedrooms later, yelling at their screens, before warily sidling up to me. "You know I don't think you're fat, right?"
     "You said that I'd put on timber," I said, slamming the cutlery drawer shut and making him jump.
     "I didn't actually say that, Daisy. I said that you felt like you'd put on timber. It's not the same thing."
     "Hmm."
     "Cup of tea?" Clearly John thought that this conversation was over.
     "But do you think I've put on weight? You do, don't you?"
     John took a few seconds to answer, all the while resembling a bunny caught in headlights. "No. Not at all," he finally said.
     "Oh John. If only you hadn't felt the need to pause for so long before answering just then."
     "Oh come on, Dais," he said. "You know I don't know how to answer questions like that. You look gorgeous to me, but if you're not happy with how you look, that's what matters most."
     "I just don't feel like me after all these weeks stuck at home. My clothes are too tight, I need to see my hairdresser and I've forgotten how to walk in heels."
     "Look, I could do with getting fit myself. I'm struggling to motivate myself to get back to normal, if I'm honest. Why don't we exercise together, ay?"
     "Really?"
     "Yep. I'll support you every step of the way"
     "Then why have you taken that tub of ice cream out of the freezer? Shouldn't you be watching what you eat?"
     "I'll start at the weekend, Dais. We'll go running on Saturday morning."

The week was a stressful and chaotic combination of office, working from home and home-schooling. I was reminded at least five times a day of why I needed chocolate and wine in my life but I stood firm. Needless to say, that by the time I made it to Friday, fueled only by salad and chick peas,  I was feeling so  hard done by that I succumbed to both.  When we awoke the next day at 9.30, hungover and lethargic, John and I pretended that we'd never had the conversation about the run.😶