It's about to get real...

Since I probably won't get the opportunity to meet every one of my readers, shame isn't a factor here. This topic is rather embarrassing but is 100% me nonetheless, whether I'd like to admit it or not. 

Hello, my name is Anita Baffoni, I am 23 and I sleep with stuffed animals.

Laugh all you want. I bet that someone reading this post is in bed with their laptop and their stuffed animal(s) nestled next to them. I get it. I legitimately sleep with mine, every single night.   Here is my justification on why I think it is okay for a young adult to cuddle with fuzzy and plump little creatures, regardless of age.

Growing up, I didn't have any pets. Well, my family had a cat named Meesh (every Italian family calls any cat, for that matter, Meesh, its a cultural thing... I guess) but I was too young to have a deep connection with her. She died when I was little so I can barely remember 'our relationship'. Instead, my mom bought us stuffed animals that would be our bedside companions for basically our whole lives. She would  give names to all the animals and even go as far as having different personalities for each. For me, I love dogs. My twin sister, on the other hand, cats are her thing. It wasn't only us though, my brother (don't hate me bro) and older sister both had their fair share of cuddly characters. Till' this day, my siblings and I will always connect with any stuffed animal that crosses our path, either some gifted to our younger cousins or a lone ranger standing tall in a shelf of Valentine's Day gifts at CVS. 

Believe it or not, I still have my initial three stuffed animals (all dogs). You can walk into my old bedroom at my parent's and find all three laying on my bed. One of them was given to me shortly after birth, so yeah, it's a normal thing to have a friend-stuffed animal, to me.  I can confidently say that not one member from my immediate family would/could throw/give away any of our stuffed animals. They are a piece of us, at this point. Fast forward 20-plus years and nothing has changed. Instead, my boyfriend bought me a Valentine's Day gift that turned into a hearty investment, without him even realizing it. 

Over the past four years, a handful of stuffed animals have been purchased for gifts by my boyfriend, Jake. The first being Doodie, the over-protective, lovable puppy who thinks he is 10 feet tall when really he is a mere 10 inches. Second came Pickles, the loud and sassy Hello Kitty look-a-like who thinks she is a royal princess, that all of China happens to obsess over. Finally came Jingle and Jangle, a reindeer pair I purchased from a Build-A-Bear Workshop, as "slippers" for Doodie. Although the over sized pair barely fit my priceless pup, we embraced them as their own beings. They both always act like a bunch of wild hooligans, ALWAYS getting lost within sheets and pillows. Between the four of us, all of our relationships brought Jake and I closer together. Back at home, I can admire my family's love for their own stuffed animals. Even all of our significant others know of our hidden secret (it's not much of a secret anymore) and play along. I can honestly say I am blessed to have a loving family who can relate to my stuffed animal-loving personality.   

So what's the point of this post? Ladies, and even gentlemen, I understand your connection with stuffed animals. The thought of something being there with you through the thickest of waters means the most. Through the roughest of nights and happiest moments, my fuzzy companions will continue to keep me company and make me smile. Call me weird or childish, I'll take it. If that means I go to sleep happy at night, weird is nothing less than a compliment.