I have an embarrassing secret. And I've decided I don't want it to be embarrassing nor a secret any longer.
I still have my baby blanket.
And by "baby" I mean that when I was about 8, I stole it from my little sister when my true baby blanket became so overused, it disintegrated. And by "have" I mean that I sleep with it every night and find it hard to go without.
LOUD AND PROUD, people. LOUD AND PROUD.
Okay, now I'm just shouting nonsense phrases to make up for my embarrassment. Fine, so it's true! But I strongly believe that I am not alone. And that anyone who doesn't still have something comforting to sleep with from their childhood is either a) lying b) a robot or c) cries themself to sleep every night and doesn't know why.
When I was younger I used to worry--worry--that I would have to get married and I wouldn't be allowed to sleep with my blanket. I guess I thought it was either a secret I would have to hide from my theoretical husband (what kind of MONSTER was I planning on marrying?!), or maybe it would just take up too much room in our bed. Because a 3x3 blanket takes up SOO much space. I considered a future where I would wind up framing it like guys do with jerseys, or maybe I would turn it into a quilt of some sort. Or maybe, just maybe, there would come a day when I would just grow out of it.
Well, I just turned 25. And last night me and ol' green had a snuggle fest like you've never seen.
I think I've decided that I can keep this blanket. Indefinitely. Sure, I guess it's strange for a grown woman to sleep with a blanket covered in pastel bunnies. And the image of me with it as a 50-year-old is super weird, if not a bit Miss Havisham-y. But the feeling of my blanket calms me in a way that nothing and no one else can. There is no bear hug, there is no Bette Midler ballad, there is no bucket of whiskey that can straighten my brain waves like the satin edge of my baby blanket. Which, now that I've typed that out, sounds ridiculous.
Telling you guys all this is stressing me out. I need to calm down. Time for my baby blanket and a bucket of whiskey.