I am writing to you from day 3 post vacation. Yes, a vacation. I packed a real suitcase, took a plane, ate at restaurants, celebrated love at a wedding, went to a theme park, went to a coastal town where one of my favorite movies was filmed, hugged friends and family.

A real, tangible, fulfilling, overwhelming, at times chaotic, vacation.

And I wore a bra, makeup and hard pants for 10 days.

I’ve been working from home for a year now. 2020 I was unemployed and on lockdown most of the year, living outside NYC in New Jersey. Hard pants and bras had become foreign objects to me. Relics sitting in my closet, staring at me with sad, forgotten doll eyes. The strap on one of my dresses I bought in early 2020 actually broke off because it had been hanging so long.

I had accepted that it is sweatpants central in my apartment. I don’t mind it one bit. I’m comfy, happy and it reminds me of college when I had to wear non-restrictive clothing to class (#actorproblems). I find I work well this way instead of hating my outfit or worrying my pants look cheap compared to the fancy Rent the Runway girls surrounding me. I am surrounded by my cats and my husband, all of them also wearing cozy clothes or fur. It is a judgement free zone. I often don’t put on makeup minus mascara and some brow gel if I have to be on camera. I rarely blow dry my hair. I take long showers in lieu of a 10 minute get ready morning I used to have.

I can never go back to before.

That all being said, I got dressed, blow dried my hair, and wore makeup everyday on vacation and I felt ALIVE. I felt pretty, confident, cool even. I would catch myself in mirrors and think “Oh wow, who is she?” I wore clothes that I had not had the occasion to wear them for yet. A coveted dress that turned heads. The perfect high waisted autumn pants. Disney fashion I had been longing to wear at an actual park. Rain boots I got for Christmas 2019 that I had yet to wear because we drove everywhere in 2020 and I had no job to get to.

I struggled with my makeup in the morning. My skilled winged eyeliner faltered. I constantly fidgeted with tucking and untucking shirts. I started to hate every item I had bought in the pandemic. My jeans that were slightly too big but I didn’t care because I only wore them grocery shopping made me feel like a horror show walking in LA. I tugged at my bralettes because I hadn’t had something around my chest in so long. My hair took forever to blow dry when I recall it taking only 5 minutes when I had a commute to start.

I was rusty.

Aside from being out of practice being dressed, I found socializing exhausting. I’ve been working from home, going on walks occasionally during the day, but mostly finishing work and hopping on the couch. For 10 days, I was outside walking, waiting in line, chatting with friends, searching for Lyfts and restaurants. I used to feed off of socializing and now, I need a nap. My heart is so full but my feet hurt like I’ve walked over hot coals.

Full disclosure: I am not one to work out. But I think slowly moving back to society and this new normal is like building a work out routine. You are out of breath at first, muscles sore, frustrated because 3 lb weights are hard to lift. Over time, you breath easier, muscles are toned, 12 lbs are now what you can lift. And it only grows from there.

I have no plans to get dressed for remote work. I do have plans to go all out for times I do get dressed. I wore cute boots and lipstick to a Broadway show last night. Did anyone see me? No. Did I wear a mask the entire time? Yes. But did I feel pretty? Yes, I sure as hell did. I will get jeans that fit and that are not from Target (I am not dissing Target in anyway, I LOVE Target. However, it was the only store I went to in the pandemic besides the grocery store and therefore most of the new clothing I bought came from there and I made excuses for not returning things that didn’t fit right because I couldn’t try them on in store). I will stop making excuses not to blow dry my hair or wear jewelry. I will take things slow as I ease back into talking to people and moving through a city street (I am so very out of shape with this).

We are all healing and recovering in one way or another. I felt so confident, so true to myself these magical 10 days. It was like when the ghost of Mufasa comes down from the sky and whispers, “Remember who you are.” I got to talk about my book, our little life, my job, my cats, the city. I got to hear about my friends lives that I have so missed being in person for instead of staring at through my phone screen.

We all have a long way to go. I know I do.

But first, I am going to get dressed.