I used to have a HUGE collection of stuffed animals. As a child, we traveled a lot, and that was my way of remembering where all I’ve been. There were animals EVERYWHERE. Eventually my room looked kind of like this times about 3 or infinity or so.
There’s a reason I don’t collect stuffed animals anymore. I switched to magnets. So much smaller and lighter and easier to carry. I don’t know what I’ll do once the fridge is fully covered but I have a while so I’ll worry about that later.
This is important to know later. My love affair with plushed animals. Moving on.
It’s funny how the things we say when we’re inexperienced come back to haunt us when we’re older and wiser. And by funny, I mean it sucks chocolate nutty covered balls. I am a fairly free thinker. You do your thing, I do my thing, and as long as your thing doesn’t intrude on my thing or my thing doesn’t intude on my thing, we’re both good. I might not understand your thing. You might not understand mine. That’s copacetic. We can talk like grownups to help each other understand, or we can just smile and go our separate ways without the need to know.
I wasn’t always this blase about fetishes. Hell, I wasn’t always this blase about sex. Hush hush quiet quiet and a candy apple red color on my cheeks. For those of you who have known me long enough to remember those days, remember that I have keys to your house, I know where you sleep and how to bribe your dogs so there had better not be any pictures still around. Just sayin.
I can remember a time when I was far more judgemental than I hope I currently am today. I think it’s part of the growing up process and deciding right and wrong for yourself. But it still sucked. No one tells you that it’s ok to do this or want that or think that trying something might be fun, unless you’ve gotten really lucky. If you’re lucky, they just squeal like a little girl, if you’re not as lucky, they call you depraved and disturbed and tell you to see your doctor.
I do recall, however, while I was exploring the fetishes that I was interested in, that I found plushophilia to be creepy because my teddy bears and such were sacred.
I didn’t know it at the time, and it was probably before 2009 when I said it, but in his 2009 book Forensic and Medico-legal Aspects of Sexual Crimes and Unusual Sexual Practices by Dr.Anil Aggrawal (Maulana Azad Medical College, New Delhi, India) plushophilia is defined as a “sexual attraction to stuffed toys or people in animal costume, such as theme park characters.” Multiple online sources define plushophilia as sexual attraction to stuffed animals.
It was absolutely necessary to do some research on this and I’m almost blushing as I confess my secrets and fears to you. I still have a couple of teddy bears with me. This is my newest.
Yeah, he reallly is as soft as he feels and he’s a great comfort to hold onto when I’m going to sleep. However, when I wake up, I find that almost consistently, his pants have been tugged down halfway down his legs and his tail is above the waist band. Am I abusing my teddy while I’m sleeping? Do I have no decorum anymore? Have I suddenly determined that I am going to not-sleep sleep with this poor bear who can’t say no and has no ability to stop me besides his cute little boxers?
OhGods, what have I turned into? You don’t know how much this has been distressing me until I woke up early one day this week. There is a cat…. actually there are four cats, but this is the cat in question:
BELLA was trying to get it on with my teddy bear, in MY bed, while I was in it. I tried to have some concern for her feelings, so I just slid my hand down to hold onto the bear and it was almost like she said thank you. Teddy was on his belly and Bella just licked and licked and nibbled down to his boxer waistband and I called enough.
I don’t know if I’m more disturbed when I thought I might be molesting my bear or now that I know its the cat because she think’s its fun. Meanwhile, the bear loses and gets put up during the day and Bella gets put to bed before I bring him out to go to bed.
This is one that I’m chosing to be a grownup and not talk about it with her because she’s a freakin cat.
This kinda shit only happens to me. Or rather my teddy.