My Giant Hoodie: Go Big or Go Bigger

Since leaving my job almost two years ago, I rarely watch television during the day. I reserve my viewing for the evening, when I take to my recliner and my fuzzy, red and white snowflake blanket, and dive into BritBox. Keeping busy with writing and other hobbies, I never felt the need for daytime tv. Likewise, I never ruled out starting my morning with Kelly and Ryan or embarking on an all-day decadent binge of Martha Stewart re-runs. My freedom to choose is a “my game-my rules” situation. Nevertheless, one mid-morning a few weeks ago, I broke with my own tradition, grabbed the remote, and surfed my way through my channel guide, ultimately landing on The View.

With limited knowledge of the show, I watched as the rhetoric of the somewhat diverse panel of women unfolded. In preparation for a commercial break, Whoopie Goldberg told me to hang in. Apparently, there is a shopping component embedded in the show, a bargain-filled array of items. I was intrigued. Always open to the idea of a deal, I sat through a few commercials, never expecting my efforts to be rewarded in such an enormously rewarding way.

After the break, the presenter, Adam, stood behind a table stacked with all sorts of items from skin creams to bath salts to kids’ books on social issues.  He drew the viewers attention to a stylized pyramid of multi-colored fabric. From behind the display, Adam held up a gold colored garment, a gigantic hooded sweatshirt, available in four colors, promising to be one-size-fits-all, at fifty percent off the original price of $60. I generally avoid hoodies, sweatpants, sneakers, or any article of clothing that connotes exercise or athleticism but this huge fleece sweatshirt appealed to me. After gaining more weight over the past year than I will admit, the Giant Hoodie offered a chance to “hide a multitude of sin,” a biblical reference used by mother to describe everything from paint color to a slipcover. With my sin more evident than ever, my excitement over a massive, fleecy, dress-like sweatshirt impelled me to grab my debit card and succumb to my chronic, barely suppressed urge to impulse buy. It is in shopping that I feel most alive, and I completed the purchase as quickly and impulsively as I have ever bought anything. 

The package arrived in a few days and my glee matched that of a six year old with a new bicycle on Christmas morning. Having chosen my hoodie in black, I hoped that the color and the enormity of the shirt would be the perfect combination to camouflage my ever-expanding, Covid-related physical girth and I am happy to report, the Giant Hoodie did not disappoint. I slid the garment over my head and ran to the mirror for confirmation. It was perfection–the most exciting and satisfying purchase I have made in a very long time. 

As I considered what to wear this morning, even though I had no plans to leave the house, I peered through my window at the frozen world outside. The temperature here in Boston was nine degrees and I instinctively grabbed my Giant Hoodie. Fresh from the laundry, it was an obvious choice. I knew, combined with Uggs and leggings, my hoodie would provide the perfect antidote, causing me to question why I didn’t buy one in every color. My only fear is, if I had, my “real” clothes, the ones that still fit, might never be worn again. The idea appealed to me more than I like to admit. 

So here I sit at my desk, moved to write about a ridiculously comfortable item of clothing. I should probably clarify–I am not a paid spokesperson for the company. In truth, I know nothing about Giant Hoodies except that the product is made in the USA. But in these dire times, when I find something that makes me happy, I sing its praises. I usually reserve those testimonials for things like a really good prosecco or a fabulous recipe. Giant Hoodies has elevated my self-isolation to a new, almost bearable level, earning my endorsement and my undying appreciation.

Warmth and comfort–a perfect combination. Given my lack of motivation to do anything but drink, eat, and shop, maybe a little too perfect. 

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