Dolled up and Swaddled

I was on MUNI the other day passing by the Duboice Park in San Francisco when a woman rolled what appeared to be her newborn grandchild in a stroller.  The day was cold, and the child was dressed in layers; so many layers that his arms and legs were sticking out.  Poor thing. 

That reminded me of Russia.  They used to dress me up in so many layers, I couldn’t move.  Gosh, I hated going out during the winter!  And I felt liberated when I returned home. 

It wasn’t just about the layers.  My diva grandmother had to dress me up in the most stylish and exotic garb.  For instance, when I was four she bought me this prestigious bear fur winter coat.  The fur was shiny brown.  The coat was the heaviest coat in proportion to my weight I ever wore.  The girls from ordinary families had cheep pink faux fur coats.  Now that I think back, their coats were not just cheaply made, but very common.  Back then the run-of-the-mill’ness of the coats only added to the attractiveness.  I envied the common girls, and I felt like a freak.  The second is ever justified.

To go back to the issue of over-coating.  Russians swaddle (or used to swaddle) like there is no tomorrow.  Baby was completely restricted, like a log.  Baby couldn’t move.  My mom said that once I was unswaddled, I’d waive my arms and legs in the air: Freedom!   

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January 21, 2007. Breedosaurus.

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