Tune in today to see if she can … give a child a beloved stuffed animal sidekick in one easy misstep.
I have had some ugly coats, you guys. It’s not like I set out to make a name for myself with putrid outerwear. It just kind of happened. From my “fancy” pleather red trench with fake pockets, to a pseudo-sheep wool warmer from a 5-7-9-type joint, I guess it started in college. Then I had some decent years. (No, thank you, Target.)
But a revolting one-two punch of a fashion faux pas was brewing. There are those adorable gals who can carry a baby through the winter with just an endearing peek-a-boo from their blossoming belly thanks to an undone bottom button. Then there was me. I still remember my Mom picking up a maternity Emerald peacoat with a ruffly flair and dubbing it, “Adorable!”. If it sounds cute, I described it wrong. This jewel-toned shot of eye poison could only be dethroned by what would forever be referred to as, “the body bag” by my best girlfriends. I had asked Santa for a simple black winter jacket for my third pregnant Christmas. What I got was a dark, cylindrical cocoon of a coat with zippers down the side so that, if I were to grow beyond human comprehension, I could let them, as well as my girth, go completely.
But the era of eyesores was ending. This past Christmas, I sent my mom a link. I had picked a perfect parka; the parka to undo my tumultuous track record. Cute, right?
Then something stupid happened. I washed and dried it without removing the tickly fur trim. It went from wispy to old woman wig in one cycle. Only then did I notice the convenient buttons, and remove the matted mess.
An hour later a sweet little voice said, “Mama, can I have the hair from your coat?” It was JoJo, holding the strip of fur that served as an adorable flourish just yesterday. “Sure,” I replied. “Yessss! It’s going to be my snake, Slither!” And with that, a friendship was born. Slither has accompanied her to school, slept coiled up next to her in bed and starred in this short thriller set in the suburban jungle.
It’s really cute, and maybe a little of this …
But certainly, with a track of button holes and no sweet fake fur trim to attach, the coat has lost a bit of its luster and my street cred is, yet again, the only true victim in this story. I’ll go for cool again next Christmas.
Until next time …
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