Piggie, meet BlogLand. BlogLand, meet Piggie.
My name is Erin and I have a lovey. Yes, I know I am 33 years old. Piggie is currently about 10. My previous lovey was a small bear I affectionally called "Oatmeal," and I stupidly gave him to a boyfriend as a
meaningful parting gift when I graduated from college. I don't remember the transient lovey between Oatmeal and Piggie, so he must've been rather insignificant.
Perhaps
I was so traumatized during childhood my adolescence left me slightly scarred and insecure and this is why I require a lovey to fall asleep. Even now, if I've had a rough day, one snuggle session with Piggie and the world is right again. When
those bastards at Continental Airlines lost my luggage in January there was a debacle during my trip to Houston in January, I thought Piggie was lost forever. I had two long sleepless nights until he was returned to me. I was also stressed because I'd dumbly packed my diamond earrings in the same bag, but if we're being completely honest, I was more worried about losing my lovey.
One day when I was about five, my parents had a long talk with me and walked me out to the garbage can with "Kiki," my first lovey, a soft pink blanket. They explained that it was time for KiKi to
take a trip to the local landfill take a powder because I was a big girl. I cried hysterically and begged them for a reprieve. I think they begrudgingly let me keep Kiki, but the thought of losing her was terrifying. Maybe that's why I can't get rid of Piggie. I've tried using a pillow, but it's just not the same.
Time to 'fess up. Do you still have a lovey? What is it? How old is it? Do you keep it a secret? C'mon now, don't let me look like the only freak!
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