I think all American office workers are in the same boat: we all gained our Covid 19 pounds because we ate and drank our feelings, and now even our business casual clothes don’t fit.
I hope one of my money managers is throwing my my retirement savings into stretchy business suit stock.
I have dropped five pounds from my peak, and I’d just dropped down to my first set of non-extra large pants in decades the night before we got the call to shelter in place. Luckily, all my pre-pandemic clothes are still in a box in the basement, so I am covered.
I do occasionally visit my closet, all the way on the other side of the house from my pile of pajamas and two modest Zoom shirts, and I look at my old clothes. There’s a green jacket I bought that I wore one time and I am certain it will not fit.
And my god, the shoes. I’ve only worn my dress three-inch heels once in the last year. Will I be able to walk in heels? I might have to practice.
There’s a very depressing day ahead in all our futures, the day before we start work again when we find we have nothing to wear and we can’t walk in heels. I really think if there were ever a time for TeddyJ to allow us to come to work in trash bags and bathrobes, this is it.