When I was not yet born, my mother made me a pillow. It is about the size of a travel pillow. She put a cute little pillowcase on it with circus animals on it to match my room. I am still terrified of clowns to this day, but that is another story...
Along I came and this pillow, whom I called "Po", was always with me. When I was sucking my thumb, I would hold the po up to my face and try to hide what I was doing. The po often did not smell very good and I would have a fit when he was washed. I mean, I spent all that time making it smell the way I liked it, right?
Po followed me around to many houses, even states, and then off to college. Po had many pillow cases sewn on him.
My step-dad threatened to sew Po to the train on my wedding dress. I fooled him, I didn't have a train!
In college it was time for a new case and I had fabric left over from a sorority thing. So I made him a case myself, and hand stitched the whole thing.
This last year, poor po has really lost his fluff-ness. He was made from a big piece of foam, not stuffing. Over the years, the foam has loosened and probably just bio-degraded within the cases sewn on.
Po is lumpy.
Po is also a little dingy. Remember that "I don't like to wash the po?" That still applies.Po has some issues with this stiching.
And you can even see a pillow case from the past.
See the lace?Last night, I retired the Po. He will be in my nightstand drawer, just in case I need him after a nightmare or a bad day. But I am afraid that if I keep using him night after night, he will fall completely apart.
Last night, I slept like crap.
Po is my woobie. (please watch Mr. Mom right now if you don't know what that is.)
I told Lee last night and he said "Well buy another small pillow and stink it up and it will be fine."
Men don't understand.
