Stepping Out of My Sweatpants and Back Into the World
By Hilary Locker Fussteig
Who doesn’t know the desperation of searching your closet to find something—please, anything—that fits, and maybe isn’t out of style?
A few months ago, my friend Jen asked me and our mutual friend, Lori, to dinner. We hadn’t seen one another since March 2020, but with the world opening up, the time felt right to finally be together again.
My heart swelled in anticipation. But, truth be told, I felt like a newborn calf attempting to stand for the first time. I wasn’t convinced I’d be able to take this first step, especially with a few extra pounds around my midsection.
After throwing aside an entire rack of adorable dresses, many with tags still on, I found both an outfit and my footing: a white T-shirt, khaki skinny jeans, a forgiving periwinkle wrap, and blue striped sandals that popped. (It’s never a bad move to draw attention to feet when the waistline and cheeks are fuller than preferred. Accessories and jewelry always fit.)
At dinner, Jen, Lori, and I plunged into conversation and our food with gusto. The old adage is true: No matter how many years have passed, you always pick up right where you left off. We laughed, we kvetched, we kvelled, we counseled. We shared photos of giant kids and little dogs, and stories of new life in the suburbs (Jen decamped for Connecticut during Covid). Our sisterhood was palpable and intoxicating, and I bathed in it like the vegetables swimming in the sauce of my tagine.
Old friends must be savored.
In the days and weeks after our reunion, there was a new (but old) spring in my steps. I realized that I could exist as a social human again. Despite my love of solitude, I still adore people—a passion Covid had deadened. I had convinced myself that being with people wasn’t as rejuvenating as I once thought. During Covid, I saw family and two close friends here and there. But having dinner together, in a restaurant, with two friends I hadn’t seen in ages, broke this dreadful two-year freeze. There would be no going back.
Shortly thereafter, I had a three-hour lunch with a dear friend. I called another who had left New York for Nashville during quarantine, and we had a long catch-up as I meandered under blooming lilacs and cherry trees in Central Park. She’s coming to New York soon and we’re planning to see each other in the flesh. I spoke with my friend Aileen, a doctor specializing in both pulmonology and critical care. (For obvious reasons, I hadn’t wanted to take any time from her work or her family the last two years.) We caught up in a flash. I connected with several of my oldest friends via email, and we made plans to meet in person. My dad came over for dinner—inside!—and I cooked my heart out. I love to entertain, so it was a thrill to feed someone other than my immediate family.
A recent study found that loneliness is as lethal as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. Small wonder that my spring reawakening has created a sense of well-being I haven’t experienced in years. There’s an actual lightness to my body and my mood. I’m going to the gym more, bothering to put on makeup more, eating better (I lost the stress weight), and haven’t had a migraine—normally a twice-weekly occurrence—since that fabulous dinner.
Some of us might worry that after so long in isolation we don’t know how to interact with people again. But I've found that socializing is similar to the elastic on our favorite Covid sweats: it always springs back into place.
Moms have long known that sleep begets sleep. But I’ve also noticed that socializing begets socializing, and this might be putting positive energy out into the world. Cashiers and postal workers have been oddly pleasant of late; strangers smile at me on the street; neighbors in my building are striking up sweet elevator conversations; and, most improbable of all, a preteen who caught sight of me shouted out that she liked my red top.
Crazy, I know.
One by one, according to our own individual comfort levels, we’re emerging from our dark cocoons. It’s time. Let’s lose the leggings, unswaddle ourselves, trust our wings, and fly.
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Hilary Locker Fussteig is a former editor at Parenting magazine.