Ted E. 365/79 - #79- if teddy bears could talk

Compilation Sunday: that special time of week when picture and prose become as one.

OK. Let’s get a couple of things straight. First, you see me as cute and cuddly and soft and squeezable and furry and fuzzy and all of that, but that’s only half of the story. While I have the appearance of plush goodness, I’ve got a mind as sharp as Tillamook and a wit as dry and dangerous as the Sahara. It may surprise you that I can talk let alone think. Get over it quickly. I’ve got some things on my mind that it’s high time I’ve shared.

I grow tiresome of being treated like, well, an inanimate object. Sure, when the going gets rough, you want nothing more than to dry your salty crocodiles on my soft fur and squeeze me like I’m choking. While there’s a certain amount of satisfaction in playing the role of comforter and keeper, maybe I’d like to get off the shelf when the going’s good. Oh, and don’t think it’s just an age thing. There’s plenty a teenage girl who’s reaching for my soft fur after Mr. Teenage Hormone with no brain doesn’t return a call or isn’t interested in being more than friends. I’m good enough when the moment’s traumatic, but what about during prom? I look good in a tux and tails. Maybe I’d like to take a ride in the limo and slip on the dancing shoes?

And another thing. I’m not so keen on your using my name so carelessly to describe characters who, shall we say, have no teddy bear-essence in them. You know what I’m talking about. Let’s see here. Take your average gruff, rough-exterior-wearing, male of the human species. He’s got his peculiarities and the hardened shell of a chestnut, but the good people of this land might say about him, “He’s really just a teddy bear.” It’s generally taken as a compliment to the man. Despite his seemingly callous nature, he’s genuinely a softy at heart. Now, this may a compliment to the man, but what about to me and the rest of my brethren. Have you seen these human gentlemen called “teddy bears?” For one thing, they’ve generally got a gut the size of a beach ball and the handsome features of say, Tom Petty. It’s truly an insult to use the term “teddy bear” to refer to these beached whales in human form. I don’t ever see a chain-smoking, emaciated wisp of a shrew being referred to as my female counterpart in the toy kingdom, a “doll.” I know. It really doesn’t seem fair.

Oh, and one more thing. I’m not such a big fan of “Build-A-Bear”. Sure, on the surface I should have no gripe here. Here’s a whole store devoted to the posterity of my kin. Teddy bears appear to be moving up in the world. But please, take a closer look. Piles and piles of my brothers and sisters sitting there lifeless with the stuffing out of them. Oh, that’s mighty heartwarming. So life affirming as well. I dare say that you humans wouldn’t take all that kindly to a “Build-A-Human” store with stacks of Jack and Jill laying there with the innards all spewed around for all the world to see.

So perhaps now, you can see my point. The next time your life throws you a few curveballs and you wrap your gangly fingers around my plush belly, realize that I just might have a few feelings of my own. Maybe when things are going well, you should just tenderly hug me and ask me if everything’s fine. Sometimes teddy bears need a little loving of their own.