Snuggie. Yes, I said it, snuggie.

I'm sure you've seen the infomercials for these little gems.

I can name about six times that I've been warm since, I don't know, the age of 26 or so. I'm almost always freezing and I use to drag around a comforter like Linus pretty much the whole time. Now if I'm not dragging around a blanket with me, it's only because whatever room I'm going to already has a blanket in it waiting on me.

It's a woman thing.
Until we have hot flashes anyway.

That, I will miss about sleeping with someone. Grant is always warm. I use to call him my furnace in the winter.

I'd be freezing my ass off and shivering and he would be going, "COULD IT GET HOTTER IN THIS FUCKING ROOM?! I'm going to bring down the fan" - and I would think, "I'll kill you where you stand" in my head.

Or out loud.
Most likely out loud.

I'd have 16 red blood cells on strike half the time and he would give off heat like an incinerator.

That became a game after awhile.
Grant: "How many red blood cells today?"
Me: "FOUR!"

as I stand there in the doorway with both hands around a mug of coffee with steam coming out of it...

Me: "...and they're NOT happy!"
Grant: Really? Because it's hot in here you know.
Me: Really? Bite me... I need mittens and my nose is frozen.

I'm sure I need more iron in my system.
Though, I'm almost positive I've cured that whole little annoying anemia issue.

Grant and I use to see the commercials about snuggies on TV and he use to just rip on them. All the while I'm thinking I need about 10 of them.

So we're at the grocery store a week or two ago and there they were. Right there. On display and on sale. Why? Because no one wants to be seen buying one, let alone admit they own one.

NOT ME!
What the hell do I care?!
So now I'm the proud owner of a snuggie.



I should be totally horrified.

Mine is a light brown one, only because they didn't have any dark red ones. There's only one problem. I'm 5'3". I swear it's made for someone about 6'5".

This is something the women will be able to identify with. You know when you go the the gynecologist and they ceremoniously hand you the giant bounty that they want to pass off as a gown of some sort? And how it doesn't close in the back and if you get really bored and they take too long and you're left to sit there on the table of doom so you start systematically tearing fringes in the bottom of it just to be somewhat of a fashion statement...

Okay, maybe that's just me.

My doctor loves me. He's no longer surprised by anything I do anymore though. I think I broke him.

The point is, it's open in the back.
And it's huge.
And long.

So, it hangs off my shoulders and I basically have to hug it to me and it drags on the floor and you just know that it's a matter of time before you trip over it and crack your head open on something.

So, I wear it something like this:


Doing my best rendition of a Roman or a Greek throwing the extra fabric over whatever limb that will prevent me from bloodshed.

I am nonplussed because it's a heat source.

Every time Grant looks at me in it he starts laughing.
Me: DO NOT BELITTLE THE SNUGGIE!
this is a mistake because it just sets him off again...

Me: You try it!
Grant: No.
Me: DO IT! COME ON!
Grant: For God's sake...

this went on until I wore him down...

Me: Okay, take that off.
Grant: Why?
Me: Because you look ridiculous!
Grant: You look like a Monk in it.
Me: RESPECT THE SNUGGIE!

God damn it

I love my snuggie.
I hope it doesn't kill me.
That would suck as a news headline.