Baditude Blanket Hoodie

A dramatic monologue from a very offended hoodie.

Just how long do I have to live in solitude on the back of your door, left hanging?

As if I mean nothing, I incredulously face the wooden door. I sit, and I sit, and I sit. Sometimes for months.

It’s ridiculous how you ignore me.

Ooooohhhh but… as soon as you’re feeling sick, crumpled, cold, with that shaky little voice…

“Oh, I feel so sick. Where are you, my favourite blanket hoodie…?”

“Oh, I’m feeling chilly… Oh, I will cuddle into my blanket hoodie… Oh, I love my blanket hoodie… I can’t wait to cuddle into my favourite blanket hoodie and get all warm and toasty!”

Hmph!

As if I’m supposed to be there every second you need me, while you ignore me every time you don’t. Who was there when you had Long Covid for almost two months? Hmmmm???? And who wrapped themselves lovingly around you during the three long months of your septic infection?

(Did you even take a shower???? But I didn’t complain. Hmmm.)

Who was there for every one of the 200 pounds you lost?

I know why I’m one of the only humongous-sized pieces of clothing you kept. Because you know. I serve you better than any other piece of clothing you have ever owned.

It is me who breaks your fever, me who calms you in a thunderstorm, me who you run to on cold nights. I cover you from head to almost toe. I wrap my hood around your head so carefully that you can’t even see the lightning you’re so afraid of flashing.

I am your best friend. No fluff.

Blanket hoodie? Hmph! I think that labels me as some ordinary piece of clothing. From the way I am knit, I find that a little condescending.

I am the encapsulating, mobile, moving-wherever-you-need-me, proven friend. In hard times. In sick times. In cold times.

I don’t remember signing a contract, but one of us is always there for the other through good and bad.

But you?

Hmph.

Clearly, you do not take our relationship with the same gravity that I do, leaving me hooked on the back of the door. I feel like a knob.

You forget about me. As if I never existed. I am the “emergency-only fastidious fluffy friend.” As if that is all I was knit together to be.

You insult the very fibre I’m made of, then flatten my fluff with your disdain for my day-to-day needs. All I want is a bit of the warmth and softness I give you.

I wait. I hope. I fray in anticipation as I see you head towards your closet.

Every single time.

But then you leave me threadbare.

You wear normal hoodies every day. That yellow one? Once a week. The pink one? Sometimes twice a week.

Why, we won’t even talk about the one. The Barbie one. And how often you wear that one.

Hmph.

Day after day and month after month, I am carelessly shoved onto a hook, on the back of the door, no less.

We both know I’m the only one you can trust to get rid of the chills. I’m the only one who’s there when you’re sick, night and day.

And now you come to me.

I am your blanket hoodie. I know what you’re going to say. I know what you’re doing.

But I can’t help it… I feel woven in pride.

Oh. I knew you would come back to me, my sweet…

Go ahead, little one. I’ve been waiting. My fibres are standing on end with excitement!

I am choking up…

You always come home cold, shivering and needy, and I always forgive you. Because you know that I know that it is me who is your true chosen one. The piece that means more to you than any other.

Don’t forget to put the hood on!!! I will weave my arms around you.

But please… don’t leave me hanging again.

Author’s Note:
The hoodie demanded a public statement. I complied.

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