I now love gluten and toxic chemicals.

Whoever thinks Botox is not an essential business hasn’t seen the wrinkles that look stamped into my forehead like slept-in bedsheets. My eyebrows have devolved from sophisticated arches into a shape that more resembles a question mark, figuratively and literally. My dark roots and cobweb of grays have resurfaced like pond scum, those tell-tale crow’s feet like rings on a tree, one line for every decade. I no longer have any reason to squeeze my ass into those overpriced Lululemon leggings since my internet connection is too slow for anyone on Zoom to see what I am wearing anyway.

I guess it doesn’t matter.

That all seems pretty irrelevant now that, what, there’s this deadly virus out there that has relegated us all to our homes, to limiting our human interaction to the tiny boxes in the digital dollhouse that is Zoom, and to count among our blessings good health and time with our loved ones. We don’t have the luxury of curating our so-called “lifestyle” when health care workers don’t have the basic supplies they need to save lives.

The script has been flipped during this pandemic. The womb of entitlement has unraveled before our eyes like, well, a roll of toilet paper when it falls off the holder and onto the floor. Covid doesn’t care if you are vegan or if you drink bone broth or take collagen to thicken your hair and nails. It doesn’t care what kind of car you drive or if you chose quartz or marble for your countertops. It doesn’t care what day of the week it is or the color of your skin or the language you speak or how much money you have. It sure as hell doesn’t care if you are overdue for Botox or not.

It has probably changed your behavior in a number of ways:

I want to know what happened to all the Paleo, vegan, and Keto people? Where have they all gone?

”

 Elimination diets are out. Gluten is back in.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve eaten more god damned cookies in the past month than I have in the past year. There’s something about all that fat and sugar melting on your tongue that feels like the hug you’re wanting from your best friend right now.

But still. Isn’t it ironic that everyone is buying as many dry pantry ingredients as they can dump into their carts, utterly obliterating the supply chain for things like rice, pasta, canned goods, dry beans, flour, and sugar when a month ago, we were all on our various diets that meant we had to avoid those foods like, er, the plague? I want to know what happened to all the Paleo, vegan, and Keto people? Where have they all gone?

The produce aisles are well-stocked with a bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables. For years I have eliminated so many food groups from my diet it’s actually amazing there’s anything left for me to eat at all. But no matter what diet trend I’m following, they all have one caveat: eat only whole foods and avoid processed ones. Unless I missed the memo on a nuclear holocaust or some other disaster of epic proportions that, unlike Covid-19 would actually destroy the supply chain, I can still eat a healthy diet consisting of plants, nuts and seeds. In fact, I think it’s important to eat as healthfully as I possibly can right now. I want to make sure my body stays as healthy as possible, just in case (god forbid) I get the Covid. 

Now, I would seriously douse my clothes in kerosene and light them on fire if it meant killing the virus.

All-natural cleaning products are out. Toxic chemicals are in.

It’s crazy to think that just a month ago, I dropped 40 bucks on a bottle of “clean” laundry detergent that used essential oils in lieu of toxic chemicals and is scented with Rose 31, a fancy eau de parfum from Le Lebo, New York. Today, I would seriously douse my clothes in kerosene and light them on fire if it meant killing the virus. As it is, I’m practically bathing in bleach (oh, I’m sorry, “disinfectant wipes”) wiping everything down in my house so often with them it’s amazing my doorknobs and cabinet handles haven’t begun to disintegrate. Every hair in my nostrils has been singed off from inhaling the toxic fumes that ripple through the atmosphere like heat waves. I’ve even used them to wipe my hands, clothes, and face when there was no almighty hand sanitizer available. On a recent hike I even wiped Levi’s ass with one (let’s just say it was an unfortunate incident when a bathroom wasn’t available), praying it wouldn’t burn his butt-white skin. If this virus doesn’t kill me, I have to wonder if all these toxic chemicals eventually will.

Screens were a way to disconnect. Now they are the only way to connect.

“I don’t know how we can tell our kids that screens are bad, and then expect them to do all their schoolwork on a screen,” my friend confessed the other day. “I feel like such a hypocrite.”

 I reassured her that this is temporary, and necessary. And yes, it’s ironic that the hippie private school that prohibited screens is now entirely dependent on them to enable distance learning, but thank god we have that capability. Zoom freaks me out. It’s too staccato and distorted, especially with our shitty satellite internet connection, but it’s also the only way for social contact to be achieved—for businesses to meet, for kids to learn, and even for old friends to connect for a much needed, after-work drink.

 I’ve also been hearing from friends with teenage children that their kids are choosing this face-time interaction over their former faceless means of communication, via text and SnapChat. And, I’ve reconnected with some old friends I haven’t seen or talked to in years who used this platform as an excuse to have a little virtual meet-up. My friend Dina, who lives in Brooklyn and has seen horrors of this thing most of us can’t even imagine and probably don’t want to think about said, “That was probably the highlight of my pandemic.”

Listen. I do like to think there is a silver lining in all of this. I sometimes wonder if it’s some kind of natural cycle that’s much bigger than the virus itself, like the universe righting our course. It’s forced us to stop the frenetic pace of our crazy-busy over-scheduled daily lives and stand still. It’s brought us back home, to be with our families. It’s forced us to find creative ways to spend time together, cracking open a huge space where there was none before. It’s stripped away those things that don’t matter so we can see, with blazing clarity, what does.

I also think it’s forced us to appreciate the little things; the lyrical sound of our child’s laughter, the great comfort we get from our animals, the warm sunshine on our faces, and the clean air filling our lungs. Yesterday I took a bike ride up the Frying Pan valley and the freedom i felt in that self-generated movement made me whoop and holler and sing out loud. The cool breeze in my face, the pumping of my legs, the river that continues to flow, even in a time of crisis. My lungs filling with air. My lungs, working, feeding my heart with beautiful, pristine, life-giving oxygen.

It feels so good to be alive. Celebrate that today.

What has your experience been like? Tell me! I’m bored and lonely and desperate for your comments.