My mother introduced me to her over ten years ago. At first, I thought she was too long. Too green. Too boxy. The sleeves hung off like big, floppy . . . sleeves. The brown wooden buttons she sported were majorly ugly. I’m not sure what possessed me, but I took her anyway and brought her to my office. I forgot about her. Until that fateful day . . .

I work in a government building. Despite constant cries of lack of fundage, one thing the government does not skimp on is air conditioning.

Years ago on a hundred-degree July day, I sat freezing in my office rubbing my hands together to keep my circulation flowing. As I debated whether or not to start a small fire in the trash can to warm myself, I saw her out of the corner of my eye, hanging on a coat rack, calling me. Her boring green hue. Her shapeless form. Her wooden buttons. The orangutan arm sleeves.

What the heck, I thought. It was worth a try. Sure beat starting a fire in a federal building.

I still remember the moment we made contact. I slid my arm through her sleeve and my world changed forever. She made me a better person, a less-bitter government employee. Suddenly, the sun outside, as well as my future, seemed brighter. The frigid air blowing on my head from the ceiling vent didn’t seem so cold. I felt instantly at ease with one touch of her cheap wool. As I wrapped her tightly around me, she talked to me without words, saying, “Take me. Use me. Love me.”

And I did.

I settled down on my office chair and looked at my computer, the glow of her green reflecting back at me from the white screen before me. From that moment on, I knew. I knew we were meant to be together. My world as a working drone would never be the same. We were Forever.

Ten years later, she’s the first thing I seek when I walk into my office every morning. I wrap her around me when I am cold, scared, hungry, tired, sad. She’s guided me through good and bad times, through the cold of winter and the artificial cold of summer. Through two pregnancies she stretched over my giant belly. When I feel confident and warm, she drapes herself over the back of my chair giving me space to breathe, yet always nearby. Year after year she remains, except for an occasional laundering. Since that first day, her wool has softened and her boxy form has loosened. Her buttons have fallen off. Her color has faded. Her arms have stretched to a point that even Shaq would have to roll up the sleeves. Still, I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

I’ve tried to replace her. Once when we were on a break, I tried a new one from Anthropologie. One that looked pretty and new and was on sale. But as I slid into the new, fresh fleece-lined arms, it just didn’t feel the same. I knew I had made a mistake. Engulfed by guilt, I went back to the familiar and soothing comfort I’d known for a decade. As I wrapped myself in her again, we melted together like ice cream into a cone.

I can’t live without her. She’s my Woobie.

Behold, the Woobie.
Behold, My Woobie.
She waits for me . . .
She waits for me . . .
True Love. She wraps me in warmth and acceptance.
True Love. She wraps me in warmth and acceptance.

Do you have a Woobie?

(This post is an attempt at The Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge looking for humor.  You can see that post here.)

16 thoughts on “My Woobie, My Love

  1. I’ve got a black t-shirt, a giveaway from some mall store, complete with 10 holes (I just counted). I save it for the bad moods and wear it however possible. On good days, it sits on the shelf waiting for me. 15 years of bad days … may I never have to wear it again!


  2. Oh wow, I have a green fleece jacket almost like yours from my mother-in-law. My husband hates it but it is so comfortable and light I go to it for all the reasons you mention above. Plus it reminds me of her and that makes me smile…


    1. Aww! Another green Woobie! I love it. Lucky for me my husband and the Woobie never meet. They live separate lives. I am pretty sure my husband would be jealous if he knew how much I loved it!


  3. Now I remember my black jacket that I left in the office only to find somebody else wearing it the following week and I knew it was mine because of the white paint on the sleeve. I just never had the guts to ask her 😦


    1. OMG! I would die if someone lifted my Woobie. That’s not right! You should get it back! Steal it back and see if the culprit has the nerve to ask for it back!


  4. You really have enjoyed that article of clothing. That’s a good purchase.
    I wrote a piece about an article of clothing I have and how attached I had become. Remember the Seinfeld episode where he gives names to his tee-shirts?


  5. I have an old Indianapolis Colts shirt. It is not warm… but it is comfortable. If I am feeling down, it is super comforting to put that on both physically and emotionally. It just feels safe. Sometimes I have worn it for two or three days in a row 🙂


  6. Funny how a piece of fabric can have that comforting effect. I have a little blue sweater with white trim and white pockets. I wore it years ago, like about 13 years, but have never had the heart to get rid of it. It has a million pill balls all over it now, but it is just right for those cool but not too cold days. I wear it only at home now as it does look quite worn.


    1. That sounds like a great sweater. It’s hard to find things that are just so perfectly comfortable that you want to keep them forever! I debate whether I should be buried in my woobie or leave it to someone special in my will when the time comes!


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