As article after article filled my feed late last week touting Target’s new (and affordable) weighted blanket, I knew I had to jump on the opportunity to snag one. The word on the street was the blanket would be even cheaper on Black Friday, marked down to $50 from its already pretty low $70, but as someone who has a need for a weighted blanket in the first place, I knew there was no way in hell I’d be braving Black Friday crowds.
I mean, I need this blanket to help counter my raging anxiety. Why would I send myself into anxiety overdrive trying to calm my anxiety just to save 20 bucks? Nonsense.
So I did what any rational anxious person would do and sent my husband there after work to pick it up for me ASAP. And it’s a good thing I did, too, because it was the last one they had in stock, and both my husband and the worker who went hunting for it, losing each other and their sanity in the process, probably wished they could hibernate underneath it for a bit after that harrowing ordeal.
So anyway, I bought the blanket. Or rather, my husband bought the blanket for me. And in so doing, created a monster.
You see, I’ve wanted one of these things for a long time. I’d heard about its supposed benefits for people like me, but I also hadn’t yet found one under $100 that appeared to be worth the broken shards of glass used to stuff it (really, the thing is filled with beads of glass, at least according to the product tag, which nobody except for the owner is allowed to remove under penalty of law, and which could lead to some interesting turn of events given my violent sleep tendencies). So when Target came to the rescue, I went all in. And I DO mean all in.
I haven’t taken it off me all weekend.
Everything I do now requires careful consideration of whether or not the blanket can come along.
Oh, the kids need help getting dressed? Can I take my blanket?
Somebody has to cook dinner? Can I do it while wearing my blanket?
I should probably shower at some point, you say? Can the blanket come in there, too?
It’s getting out of control.
This reminds me of how I developed my fan addiction. It was innocent enough and started in college. Four girls sharing a dorm room the size of a rat cage makes for some unpleasant noises while trying to sleep. Easy fix? Plug in a fan.
Now I can’t sleep without a fan. Even if it’s 100 percent silent. In fact, silence is even worse. I’ve gone so far as to purchase a cordless fan to take camping with me. Never mind the fact that I’ve spent a fortune on batteries just to get it to run for more than 6 hours. GIVE ME A FAN OR GIVE ME DEATH.
Such is likely to be the case with this blanket now.
I mean, I’m obviously going to have to travel with it. How will I sleep otherwise? And given its weight, that means I’m probably going to also have to buy it its own suitcase and plane ticket and everything.
And how the hell am I supposed to go to work now? What, am I expected to just function like a regular adult without her blankie? PLEASE.
You know what they need to do? Create a Snuggie version, but like catered to special occasions. I would wear that motherfucker everywhere.
Professional Weighted Snuggie for the office? Check.
Urban Chic Weighted Snuggie for a night on the town? Check check.
Black Tie Weighted Snuggie for weddings or the Opera or some shit? Cheeeeeeeeeeeck.
But does it even work? you may be wondering. I have no idea, to be honest with you. But it feels nice. And somebody somewhere says it does. So it must be true.
All I know is if I don’t have this blanket, I will turn into the Incredible Hulk and rage-smash everything in my vicinity until I find it.
I guess if I didn’t have anxiety before, I definitely do now just thinking about not having access to my velvety sack of glass.
On the plus side, I am gonna be so jacked carrying this thing around with me. Who needs CrossFit when you can just blanket your way to BossBitch?
Seriously, though, I’m not even kidding. It’s pretty heavy.
Want one? You can try to find it here. Good luck. I’m sure it’ll be back in stock sometime this decade.