Do you even know what a wubby is?
*sigh* Do I have to explain everything?
OK a wubby, for you uninitiated, is basically a security blanket, but it doesn't necessarily have to be a blanket, it can be anything. I know a lot of people, full grown "normal" adults, who have wubbies. These range from their childhood security blanket to stuffed animals to clothing to lucky charms. A wubby is your go-to comfort item when you're feeling insecure.
Many moons ago (and by many moons I mean about 3 decades) one of my brothers had a wubby. He LOVED his wubby, he carried it everywhere. After a while the wubby began the sad entropic disintegration into a grody (that's right, laugh it up, I'm a child of the 80s) and holey rag. Some how the wubby ended up lost and he was pretty upset about it.
But that's not the end of the story.
Round about that time my oldest sibling, Deathy Mcdaredevil, was at a sleepover at her friend's house. When Deathy unrolled her sleeping bag the wubby fell out. She was a young teenager and thus prone to be mortally embarrassed by her family in all our glorious weirdness. One of the other girls at the party noticed the wubby but didn't know who it belonged to and she said something along the lines of "ew gross, like gag me with a silver spoon, where did that come from?" (It was the 80s, they said things like that) and then she threw it away.
Deathy kept silent and didn't claim the wubby out of fear of exile or full on social death. Later she felt guilty about it and admitted what happened to our mother...aaaaaaaand we have never let her live it down, partly because we're jerks like that, but mostly because she is practically perfect in every other way and so we feel better when we remember one of her few flaws. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a harmless and charming character flaw like that.
I am not ashamed to admit that I have a couple wubbies, my #1 wubby is this sad item.
|It's worn, faded, torn, stained, and missing buttons.|
|The right monkey paw of death|
|The left monkey paw of death|
All of this probably explains a lot about my romantic history, but that's another story (one that we will never, EVER, discuss, MmmmK? OK).
Also, the mantra "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without" is firmly entrenched in my psyche, my father grew up during the depression and my maternal grandmother was an immigrant.
Growing up in our house:
- my mom made a lot of our clothes
- we wore hand me downs
- we patched/took up/let out clothes instead of throwing them away and getting new ones
- we cleaned our plates at meals or we stayed at the table until we did (it could be a battle of wills and I always lost, choking down beets is a lot easier when they are still hot than when they've gone cold and rubbery after a couple hours. Lesson learned.)
- we had a garden and a fruit orchard and we bottled or froze the produce that we didn't eat fresh
- we got in big trouble if we wasted anything
- if something needed fixing you asked mom, if she couldn't fix it you took it to dad and if he couldn't fix it them it was scrapped for parts (quilts made out of old jeans, anyone?)
I have a few other items of clothing that are heading in this direction as well. The worst of these are my Young Dubs Bollox hoodie, long sleeved Preservation Hall Jazz Band tshirt from N'awlins and my Gaelic Storm hoodie. Generally the wubbies just get worn around the house but occasionally I go out in public and get looks from nice people who are probably trying very hard not to label me as a hobo. Then I begin to think "Maybe it's time to put this rag out of its misery", but then I get all sentimental and it gets washed on the delicate cycle (lest it fall apart) and lovingly hung back up in the closet.
So, what is your wubby?