Fro Fro

WARNING - much longer post than usual, so grab a snack before you start!

As mentioned before, I grew up on the lake, in a camp on top of water with an oyster shell driveway. Seriously, no joke. You had to walk up 20 steps to get to my front door. It was a totally awesome environment to grow up in, but that's not what this is about.

When I was born, I had a Winnie the Pooh baby pillow. It was a perfect square and super soft and I can close my eyes and still see clearly every memory I am about to share. I became attached to one corner of the pillow which I would fiddle with between my right thumb and forefinger while sucking on my index finger of my left hand. The comfort and ectasy I got from performing those two actions at the same time is something I rarely feel in adulthood.

During a wild winter storm in December (wind and rain, no snow, this is the south people), I was standing on the side porch over the water of our house while my parents were securing our outside belongings from the wind and it happened...my pillow, my beloved fro fro, blew into the water. Lake Pontchartrain took my fro fro.

Noone knows why I named it fro fro except that maybe it was my earliest form of saying the word pillow. Fro fro blew into the water and the storm and the wind and the cold were more than my father was willing to jump in the lake for to retrieve my precious belonging despite my screaming and pleading.

I must have been about 4 or so. I wailed for weeks over it. My mother tried substitutions. Finally, and I remember this VERY clearly, she found a little stuffed blue elephant in Winn Dixie and asked me if I wanted it. I fiddled with his floppy ears with my thumb and index finger and declared him FRO FRO.

Since then, there have been numerous fro fro's. I have no recollection of what happened to fro fro, the blue elephant, but most of the others I remember very clearly. Somehow he evolved into the corner of my Star Wars pillow case (we LOVED Star Wars - probably because my father tried at every turn to make us boys).

See, on most all pillow cases, on the closed side, there is one corner that is super pointy and one corner that is fairly rounded. If you twiddle the slightly rounded corner enough, it will soften and round out into an ideal Fro Fro.

I remember in the 4th grade, I took scissors and cut off the corner of the Star Wars fro fro so that I could fit it in my school uniform pocket and never be without fro fro when I needed him. I would secretly take him out and fiddle with him at my desk all day in grade school until my whore sister told my mother about it and my mom made me stop.

I was able to give up the finger sucking by second grade, but fro fro never went away.

There were two more most notable fro fro's. In high school my sister and I got matching black and white checkered bed sets. Actually, if you look at Adam Sandler's bed sheets in The Wedding Singer they are IDENTICAL to those. That fro fro lasted a LONG time - all through high school and half way through college. On a flight home from Hawaii, I left that fro fro on the plane and never saw him again.

Bonding to a new fro fro is a long and tedious task. It takes months of finger fiddling to become accustomed to a new one and I haven't had to do it in years. However, with every new bed sheet set, I find myself subconsciously checking each pillow case end to find which ones would possibly be fro fro material in the event that a tragic loss happened again.

After the checkered one was lost, it became a mint green pillowcase with white flowers on it. That was in the end of college and that, my friends, is the fro fro that is still on my bed today, over ten years later. I am loyal if nothing else.

This fro fro has been to Florida, Chicago, Texas, Mississippi, Arkansas, Nevada, Alabama, Georgia, California and the Bahamas - it has lived in two apartments and two houses. It has been on two honeymoons and in the hospital for the birth of my first child. If I am going to be anywhere overnight, my fro fro comes with me.

Once during a weekend trip to Biloxi, MS, my fro fro was taken accidentally by the housekeepers of the hotel. It took my current husband, who was just my boyfriend at the time, about 3 hours and $20 under the table to salvage it from the laundry room.

This may all seem psychotic to you, but if you knew my childhood story and you knew some of my even fairly recent adult story then you would concede to just let this woman have her damn fro fro. If a child chooses to cling to a pillow case while her parents beat the shit out of each other, then dammit, just let her have it.

My crutch on the corner of a certain pillow case that I fiddle with to put me to sleep or while I'm relaxing is not something that I am proud of. My entire family makes fun of it including my parents and my own child.

Luke and Ziggy have played jokes and hid it from me. They are assholes when they do that. I don't share fro fro with the general population because I KNOW that it is strange and immature, but when I tell you that I cannot sleep without him, I swear to you that I CANNOT sleep without him.

This current fro fro has particular meaning to me. It is the first "blanket" that I swaddled my son in at the hospital. It is what I wrapped up my dear sweet dog, Lola, in to bring her to the vet on her last day of life. It is the same pillow case that I used to smuggle sweet Lola into the Super 8 motel when we evacuated for Hurricane Katrina. It seriously is that much a part of my life. I've dried millions of tears with it - millions - springing from the eyes of myself, my son, my husband - because it's usually close at hand during those kinds of moments. (I keep it loose and not on an actual pillow so it's just more like a little blanket than a pillow case.)

My closest boyfriends in life knew and understood the seriousness of fro fro. On the night that I lost my virginity, I was shaking like a leaf afterwards and crying and Patrick immediately got up, yanked off the condom and handed me fro fro and then curled up behind me. When I'm on the sofa resting or sick, Ziggy and occasionally even Luke will bring me my fro fro as easily as if they were bringing me a glass of water. Seriously. It's as much a part of my life as air and Ziggy knows that if I die I want to be buried in pajamas with socks on (I loathe being barefoot at night with no socks) with fro fro in my hand.

I've noticed the wear and tear on current fro fro. When you hold the corner up to the light, it is so worn down that you can see the individual threads through it. I've tried to use him less so I can hang on to him longer, but then the hole appeared. The part that was see-through became an actual hole.

So I tried to twiddle around the hole. Then last night, I was laying in bed watching TV and a small part of the threaded guts in that inner part of a pillow case oozed out of the hole like a cooked ramen noodle. I screamed and Ziggy came running thinking I was hurt.

Naturally he laughed his ass off when he saw the reason for my distress. He mended fro fro the best he could and then he sat and talked to me seriously about giving it up. GIVE IT UP? WTF, man? Seriously? Does he not realize that he is merely one of 100 people who have tried to convince me to give it up? Is he psychotic?

So fro fro is partially mended right now, but it's obvious that his days are numbered and I am faced with a huge decision. Do I seriously try to give up my fro fro need forever and cold turkey say goodbye to my most trusted and oldest ally, or do I begin to court a new pillow case corner to take his place?

If you are laughing then go ahead. Who cares? This is serious for me. You can tell me I need therapy and guess what? I have had it. I've had four serious therapists in my life (hell between my parents and my husband, you should be shocked that it is so few and not many more). NONE of my therapists have ever seen a problem with fro fro, and actually 2 of the 4 told me that they found fro fro to be a healthy outlet for personal comfort. So, na nee na nee boo boo on you.

So that is the story of fro fro. Laugh. Make fun. You won't be the first and you won't be the last. In the meantime I am saying goodbye to a very old friend and possibly having to replace him and it sucks and I hate it and I'm really sad over it.