HUMOR

I’m Never Taking Off My Wearable Blanket

You can’t make me

There’s nothing better than snuggling into my enormous wearable blanket. It’s become my second skin. Iron Man has his suit; I have my Slanket.

Sure, I look like Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant, living out of the bear carcass, but it protects me from the elements. It shrouds me in a warm cocoon, rendering me completely immobile.

Some may say my inability to get off the couch is a result of depression, seasonal affective disorder, or generalized existential angst. I know it’s really the comforting weight of my Slanket that holds me down on the couch and keeps me glued to The Great British Baking Show. Paul, you had me at “overworked.”

Speaking of food, my Slanket creates a barrier for my farts, stifling both their sound and smell. After months stuck eating my own home cooking, it has been a lifesaver. It also generously hides my pandemic poundage. I could have superhero abs under here. You don’t know!

It even has an oversized hood to pull over my head to block out the sound of my toddler’s screams in the distance. “Go get your daddy, my love!” I call out helpfully to her every so often. Mommy’s in her fleece fortress.

Because it’s big enough to take up the entire washing machine, and what mom with a toddler has time to wash just one thing, my Slanket rarely gets cleaned. Who cares? It’s full of memories — that delicious dark chocolate ice cream bar, that tasty spaghetti, drops of which are encrusted on the fabric. The layers of food and crumbs provide a record of my gastronomic exploits, like a geological time scale.

When my husband wants to get frisky, nothing entices him more than me in my wearable blanket, complete with matching fleece-lined Crocs. The voluminous folds camouflage any hint of my curves. My weeks-old body odor wafts from the fabric, beckoning to him like the pungent musk of an animal in heat. When my husband sees me from behind — hood up, buried under my Slanket and it’s faux-fur lining — it looks like I’ve already been mounted by a giant stuffed teddy bear. It’s go time.

Some may say I have an unhealthy attachment to my Slanket after being mostly homebound for almost a year. With spring around the corner and a vaccine on the horizon, I realize I’ll have to venture out in public at some point. Let’s hope the wearable blanket becomes the new yoga pants because I’m never taking it off!