>In 1995, I seem to have developed some subconscious subversive desire to turn normal people into deviant stuffed animal lovers. That year, my boyfriend’s college roommate bought his girlfriend a three foot tall stuffed fluffy yellow chick for Christmas our second year at NYU. My boyfriend told me that it cost $200, and I was disgusted by such a waste of money. He asked me if I would think it was a waste of money if it were a giant stuffed penis. I said I thought that would be cool, but doubted that they made such a thing as it might threaten a fragile male ego. He laughed and agreed. That’s when I decided to make a giant stuffed penis and give it to him. I went home for winter break, bought a lot of flesh colored furry fabric, made a pattern, and sewed away.

When it was ready, I packed it in a large box and sent it to him at his parents’ house, where he was staying for the holidays. His parents were naturally curious as to what could be in such a large box, but my husband tried to delay opening it until they weren’t around since he knew I had sent him the giant stuffed penis and he wasn’t sure how they would react to it. Eventually, they pestered him enough that he opened it in front of them. They were shocked into silence at of such a magnificent handmade gift. Finally, his dad spoke. “Why did Suzanne send you a giant limp penis?” he asked. From then on, he referred to it as “that thing.” Perhaps he worried that my boyfriend’s mom would abandon him for plushie penis pleasure?

Parental commentary on the giant stuffed penis did not end there, though. Nope, right after I sent the giant stuffed penis, I went on a school trip. My mom called my boyfriend to make sure that the “package” arrived. When he verified that it had, my mom told him that the giant stuffed penis not only made a great showpiece, but also a comfortable back rest. You just nestle your head between the balls and lean back along the shaft. My boyfriend uncomfortably thanked her for the advice, but he had to admit that she was right.