I’m Giving Up the Indoors for Lent

Time to get out and about after a pandemic-focused year

Tuesday is Fat Tuesday. Also known as Shrove Tuesday — and the time before COVID Times of Mardi Gras in NOLA, Carnival in Rio and elsewhere and other bacchanalian pursuits — February 16 is the last day before Lent begins. Lent, the traditional “fasting” period before Easter Sunday, usually involves Christians, depending on their orthodoxy, “giving up” something for Lent in order to replicate Jesus’ 40 days in the “wilderness”.

Unlike my Catholic brethren, who often forsake eating meat on Fridays during Lent in addition to refraining from other pursuits in recognition of Jesus’ sacrifice, I’ve picked one thing — usually a food item — to stay away from during Lent every year. Call it, if you will, a period for self-improvement, sometimes for helping others. Pizza was a popular one when I was a teen. Chocolate, sometimes, too. A couple of years ago I was feeling magnanimous, and stopped buying lattes on my way to work each morning. I gave the resulting savings (more than $200–who knew?) to a local homeless shelter. Another year I gave up watching cable TV news — much to the delight of my Hubby, who thought my over-consumption was rotting my brain. You should know, though, that I’m quite proud of one thing — I’ve never watched more than five minutes of FOX News in my life.

This year, I’ve taken a two-pronged approach. I’m giving up the strict adherence to a “dress code” in public — as long as I remain decently presentable, of course. And I’m going to be getting out more, no matter how I’m attired. For someone like me, who enjoys being both retired and super-comfy, that’s a good thing.

Of course, I don’t mean to start a “pants-free” crusade. I’m just not all that concerned about how I look on my journey.

My family will tell you that I’ve always been a little lax when it comes to fashion. While other females in my crew — including Mom, my sister and my two girls — kept up with trends and timelines, I was always a jeans-and-cutoffs kinda gal. When I was in high school and college, I considered myself reasonably attired if my tie-dyed T-Shirt didn’t have a hole in it. As far as the jeans were concerned, ragged was retro — and in a weird way, respected.

One of my first loud exchanges with the man I would eventually marry, in fact, was over clothing. We had planned to go to a professional sporting event one Saturday. I walked out to the car in what I thought was a perfectly lovely — I probably even thought “cute” — outfit.

I guess one’s nicest pair of jean shorts — hey, they weren’t even cutoffs, and certainly not “Daisy Dukes” — and a clean tee without a rock band’s name on it isn’t appropriate attire for a golf tournament. He had on khakis and a Polo shirt, even though North Texas temps threatened to hover near 100 degrees that afternoon.

It was a long time ago, but I recall hollering that I didn’t even know what a “collared shirt” was, and changing into longer shorts and a sleeveless blouse with buttons, of all things. Must’ve been my sister’s. I don’t think I ever purchased one of those items of clothing when I was young — and fashion-free.

So, back to my plan for this year’s Lenten Season.

COVID, understandably, has kept a lot of us close to home this past year, and I’m no exception. But lately I’ve noticed that I’m getting a little carried away. Yesterday, I spent the entire day in my PJs, changing my attire only after I showered and — you guessed it — put on a clean pair of PJs.

Last week, I spent four straight days in my PJs, in the house, only changing scenery by going upstairs, then back downstairs, from the kitchen in the front to the screened porch out back, and then out to empty the trash. Of course, bad weather fostered my lethargy. Nothing says “stay at home, dummy” like temps hovering in the upper 30s and a driving rainstorm pummeling the premises.

I guess you could say I’ve been “COVID Content” or perhaps “Pandemic Present” this past year, in a way. Content to lounge in lounge-wear. Content to binge all the shows I’ve been missing. Content to read to my high school English teacher’s heart’s content — except the new Obama memoir, which I just can’t get through (more on that another time). But things will start changing soon. Ash Wednesday — the beginning of Lent — is imminent, and I’m going to start going in pursuit of the outdoors in earnest.

My urge to leave the nest most likely started, I think, when I received my second shot of “the vaccine” — courtesy of Pfizer — last week. I know I’m not bullet-proof, and will continue with all of the protocols, including masks and social distancing. Don’t worry — I don’t think I’ll go inside a restaurant any time soon, and shopping malls? Faghetta bout it.

Not that I’ve missed the mall at all — I tell you, the only thing I’ve truly enjoyed immensely during the last year is ordering new sweats — and what my daughter calls “soft pants” — online.

But I’m making a concerted effort, as part of my continuing pandemic self-care — to leave the house. Whether it’s the grocery store (but please, not COSTCO!), or a bike ride, or maybe — dare I say it? — to eventually get a mani/pedi and a much-needed haircut — I’m gonna go for it.

In other words, I’m breaking away, as they say. I might not go far, and I won’t always wear street clothes — some kinds of PJs, I’ve found, are often grocery-store suitable, and definitely adaptable to the local drive-thru or curbside pickup — but I’m definitely getting out there this spring. And that’s a good thing, yes?