I never had a stuffed toy. I remember playing with dolls, and toy guns, but not a single of those fluffy, furry creatures that most females drool over. I was too much of a tomboy to really care. Soon it became fashionable for big girls( women in fact) to play with these baby toys and this turned me further away from such toys. In fact I openly ridiculed these baby-talking, teddy-cuddling specimens so glamorized by the tinsel world. But at some level I think I was simply being an intellectual snob, that I too wanted to cuddle a soft, furry thing and go to bed with it. I realized this when we started keeping cats as pets. I simply fell in love with them, and in-spite of what wise-men say, time hasn’t healed the wounds of having lost them. However, it seemed too late and too out of sync with my personality to be seen with stuffed toys now. Hence I restrained myself and pretended I didn’t really like them. Yesterday I decided to give my house a makeover, and with it give my hypocritical self a makeover too. Yeah, I bought myself a “pink stuffed dog”