Dear Puffy Coat

Dena Ogden
Mar 14, 2017 · 2 min read
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Dear Puffy Coat,

This is really hard. We’ve had some good times, haven’t we? I’m not even sure what to say, so I’m just going to come out and say it.

You need to leave.

I can’t do this anymore. You’re suffocating me. Spring is almost here. The snow is almost all melted now, and there’s even been some blue sky peeking out of the clouds. The other day in the car, I actually felt hot because sun was coming in through the window. Things have changed, coat.

It’s nothing that you did, or didn’t do. I still think the fur around your hood is softer than, like, half of the teddy bears in my son’s room. I still think you’re stylish, and it makes me feel cool to be seen with you in public. I still think you have a lot of great years ahead of you. Maybe the stars, and the snow, and the rain, will align, and maybe we’ll even be able to reconnect for some of those years…if the temperatures drop low enough (and if I lose all this baby weight that I’m currently carrying that makes you a little too tight and clingy).

And face it, I think you’re a little sick of me, too. I leave tissues and coins in your pockets. I’m a sloppy zipper. I’ve splashed coffee on you more than once these past few months. I’ve been eyeing some of my lighter spring coats, and I even went out with my jean jacket this weekend. And you know the worst part? I enjoyed it. A lot, actually, more than I probably should have. You deserve better.

It hasn’t all been bad, though. Remember Thanksgiving, and Christmas? The Women’s March? That macaroni and cheese food truck that took forever, but was so, so worth it? You were there for me. Let’s remember the good times. Let’s hold those times close to our heart, like the way I wore you all winter long. In a way, I still love you. I’m just not in love with you, and I just don’t want to be in you, period.

I will always appreciate what you gave me this winter…warmth, reliability, water-resistance, and sensibly-sized pockets.

But, I can no longer stand the sight of you. Please, go, before I change my mind.

Dena

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