Look. I’m an adult woman, but no one warned me about a possible stuffed animal phase. If you had told me I’d still have my favorite Betty Bear that my father bought me when I was 5, I wouldn’t blink an eye (though I’d have to admit I finally gave her away a few years ago). No, this is a whole new obsession that has nothing to do with childhood sentimentality.
It all started when I hit up Walmart on a trip to visit my friend in Austin a few months ago where I discovered a bin of giant Halloween-themed Squishmallows. I didn’t know if I was looking at a day-glo flying pig or a pastel-purple dragon or what, but it was big and squishy and I was suddenly in love. Not sure how I’d fit it in my tiny carry-on, I bought it anyway.
Squishmallows are these big plush animals made from soft spandex and a special polyester fiber fill and well, yeah— squishable. There are over 1,000 characters with unique names and background stories, but I don’t care about any of that. I’m just here for the anytime-I-want-it cuddles.
It would be easy to blame the pandemic and lack of human contact over the past two years for my new obsession, but more likely they represent my need for an anchor to hold tight against an uncertain future. The past six months have felt like peak anxiety on repeat - Roe v Wade, gas prices jumping up & down, school shootings, inflation, and most recently a multi-day marathon of watching Steve Kornacki and STILL not knowing who controls the House. At the end of the day, hugging a squishmallow is my simple act of self-care.
The squishmallow made it back to Minnesota, with a new conundrum: My daughter wanted one, too. But these things are popular — go figure. After striking out in a few local shops, I discovered the online world of Squishmallow collectors, and myriad Facebook groups dedicated to buying, selling, and trading coveted characters like the Halloween ones.
Before I knew it, I was driving to pick up a yeti, a bear, and a fox. I probably paid around $8-10 per squish, which, in my opinion, is a pretty reasonable price for a hit of dopamine.
Normally I’d quit there, but then I discovered Squishmallow movie night; a magical time when my surly sixth grader will drop everything to come cuddle with me (and our Squishmallows) on the couch. Turns out these stuffed wonders work anytime either of us needs a pick-me-up.
Squishmallows range from 3.5” clip-ons to the huge 24” ones. Fair warning, though–they’re totally addictive, especially since you won’t find the same Squishmallows at every store and many characters are limited release. And once you bring one home, don’t be surprised if the whole family gets in on the obsession…