Easter is over and I’m officially getting fat. I’m 1 kg heavier and I’m cringing on the inside because I can’t afford to get any bigger. Lucky for me I’ll be climbing into bed insecure and solo tonight, I can’t even imagine anyone wanting to fiddle with my midriff right now.

Before work I packed some rusks and emergency chocolate slabs in a bag and gave it away to the waste collectors and beggars on my way there. It makes me a tad sad to see so many people still out and about while we’re supposed to all be in lockdown. And while I worry about small things like my weight, they’re probably worrying about real things like their next meal and how they are going to afford their next loaf of bread.

Today at work I wrote an intro to a interview about the Nelson Mandela Foundation. It’s launched a #eat1feed1 campaign for those who cannot afford to buy groceries for themselves during the lockdown. A day ago I saw a friend post the most generous offer on Facebook. He offered to buy food or send money to anyone going to bed hungry. It was the most sincere post I’ve seen in a long time and it got me thinking about how I can contribute meaningfully and help ease some of the pain being experienced around me.

I explored the workings of the Solidarity Fund (you can make a donation online through the Checkers website) and the local fire station. If you have old clothing or have been spring cleaning your home, please consider taking your unwanted goods to your local fire station when you go out for groceries. They are collecting clothing and valuables for those in need in the townships. There are also a number of initiatives on the backabuddy website that are supporting people who are struggling during this lockdown. I trolled them all today.

I also explored TikTok (for a story I plan on writing tomorrow) and got carried away with myself for a bit. I’m not even going to go there because I know myself, I’ll spend all day being creative. I was that child who spoke to herself in the mirror for hours, in different accents, while trying on various shades of my mother’s lipstick. Only difference now is that I play with my own makeup and I’ve got better shoes.