People, We Look Like Hell

Appearances are no longer “deceiving.”

Recently, I wrote a story about the hole in my “everyday” pants and what it signifies to me. (That, due to the pandemic and resulting quarantine, the moron in the White House and all of it, I’m having a hard time giving a Flying F.)

Well, the hole is still there. In fact, I think it’s sprouted a sibling. Because I love these comfy pants, I’ve thought about mending the holes but who am I kidding? I can’t sew worth a damn and, because of my crappy vision, the effort it would take to thread a needle would probably stroke me out.

I’m not alone in my dismissive attitude about my appearance, although I’ll only take that manner of negligence so far.

I just returned from the grocery store. Being that it’s the weekend, the place was jam-packed and as I scrambled out of my little Fiat and trundled to the entrance, I couldn’t help but notice the people around me and the way they looked. Like the Walking Dead. Schlubby zombies staring at their phones.

These days, when I venture out of the house to run errands, my attire normally consists of a black pants/black T-shirt combo. And my snappy, animal-print mask. Very cat burglar. My hair is usually clipped up and as for my face, I only bother with mascara as the rest of my mug is covered. Not that I’m batting my lashes at anyone.

I know I look like hell these days, but there’s hell…and there’s “hell to the no.”

As I checked out the people around me, I was struck by the fact that my fellow shoppers looked like warmed-over poop. Some appeared to be wearing the clothes they slept in while others were dressed in raggedy-ass shorts, stained shirts with the sleeves cut off (mostly the guys), and sandals with socks. (Not a good look, ever.)

Many of the women I saw looked flat-out, worn-out. Lots of bed-head and workout clothes on bodies that looked like they hadn’t seen the inside of a gym in years. And for good reason as most of them are closed. My gym reopened but I’m afraid to go back. All I can think of is how shallow and ignorant I would appear, not to mention potentially dead, if I caught COVID while attempting to tighten up my ass. Is that worth a session on the Stair Climber? I don’t think so.

So is this what we’ve come to in the United States of Pandemica?

Have we become that apathetic about how we appear to others?

Has it become acceptable to look exactly as we feel? Like shit?

Should we give a damn that appearances are no longer deceiving?

No, we should not, because we’re all afraid. And fear changes people. Fear and uncertainty. And you’ll get no judgment from me as I’m in the same leaky boat as everyone else. What gets me though is this: We still have one hell of a long row to hoe, and if we’re in “giving up” mode, now, what can we expect come fall and winter when our situation is expected to become even direr?

Will we be schlumping around in ragtag outerwear like Bob Cratchit in A Christmas Carol? Sacks of toilet paper slung over our shoulders? (Yes. I predict another big run so stock up now, people.)

Friends, we can ease up, but let’s not give up. Not totally. Perhaps we should all adopt a uniform of sorts.

Looking exactly like everyone else might make us feel better about ourselves. What do you think of togas? Utilitarian. Easy to clean. And they’re voluminous silhouette will help hide the Pandemic Pudge.

Actually, I have a better idea. Has anyone here seen the film, Defending Your Life, starring Albert Brooks, Rip Torn, and Meryl Streep? It’s laugh-till-you-pee hilarious. Not that I’m advocating wet drawers but I highly recommend it.

Anyway, Brooks’ character, Daniel Miller, is cruising down the street in his brand new Mercedes when he takes his eyes off the road to search for a Barbra Streisand CD that fell off the seat. Immediately, he gets hit by a bus and its lights out.

He wakes up in the “afterlife,” or Judgment City, as it’s called and finds out that he must defend his past actions here on Earth in order to “move on” to what passes for Heaven, or to someplace far less appealing. Torn is typically brilliant (as is Brooks), as Daniel’s defense attorney. Streep is also recently deceased and going through her own “trial.” She and Daniel quickly fall in love but of course, there is conflict. I won’t give it away as I’d love for you to watch the film.

One thing I will reveal: One of the best running jokes is that in Judgment City, people can eat as much as they want of whatever they want and never gain weight or feel sick. In every restaurant Daniel and Streep’s character visit, the mantra is: “Eat All You Want.” Kudos to Brooks who also wrote and directed, for that spot-on bit.

Now, the point that I’m rambling toward is that all the Judgement City newbies wear a strange, white garment called a “Toupa.” It looks like a cross between a toga and something a baby would be swaddled in. Here, have a look:

Imagine how much easier our miserable lives would be if we adapted this look? No more stewing about whether it’s cool to wear the same pair of Dockers or yoga pants six days in a row. And underwear could be optional.

Because Toupas are a go-with-anything white, on those days when we’re feeling like a little somethin’ more, we could accessorize up the wazoo. Plus, naturally, the Toupas would have to be produced and manufactured, so we’d be creating jobs. I would suggest we each have two Toupas to start. One for daily wear and the other for weekends.

There are many people on this platform who I’m sure would rock the hell out of a Toupa. You know who you are so I won’t call you out and possibly embarrass you.

That would be untoward.

And you know I never go there, so relax.

Nah. Screw it. You can’t tell me that P.G. Barnett, James Knight, Kristi Keller, Helen Cassidy Page, Joe Luca, Greg Prince, Gurpreet Dhariwal, Charlene Fate, Desiree Driesenaar, Louise Sawyer 2.0, Caroline de Braganza, Tina L. Smith, Suzanne V. Tanner, Denise Shelton, Robin Klammer, Jimmy Doom and a host of others wouldn’t kick ass in a Toupa! I’m getting turned on just thinking about it.

The more I ponder this, the more I believe Toupas are the way to go as we collectively schlep into the unknown, masks firmly in place, and hand sanitizer at the ready.

More importantly, though, what do you think?

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

If you liked this story, please check out the following:

And this from Denise Shelton, who apparently, I have to blame for my holey pants: