We both knew it wasn’t worth it.

I wore the jacket all that winter (even when it stopped zipping), and then I wore it into the spring when I had fifty pounds of baby weight to lose. Dan still had to let me wear it because my fatness was his – I mean partially his – fault. And also because if he had asked for it back, I would have cried for hours about how tired and ugly I was and how I always smelled like spoiled milk and how I was obviously a bad mother.

Clearly not worth it.

But once my pants were fitting again, he did ask for it back. In fact, he took it off my back and then drove me straight to REI and waited in the car with sleeping Shef while I went in and bought one in my own size. This has turned out to be a good investment because I wear it all the time, inside and outside of the house, and it fits me.

I was wearing it tonight, in fact, when I had an unfortunate sinus snarking incident and coughed phlegm on myself. This is the kind of thing that only happens to me.

“Help! Help!” I screamed, swinging sleepy Shef on my hip and running toward the kitchen.

"What is it?" He looked up from washing the dishes.

“I loogied on myself!”

Dan was completely exasperated, of course, but he helped me anyway because he’s just that kind of guy.

“Ugh,” he said, confiscating the goo from my shoulder with some toilet paper. “This is disgusting.”

I completely agreed. It was absolutely disgusting.

He rubbed the spot with a little water. “And I am so glad I made you get your own jacket.”