Illustration by Jan A. Igoe
If you work from home like I do, everyone thinks you’ve got it made. Sometimes they’re right. When I’m rocking old sweats and sipping a steaming mocha latte while my friends race to work on a cold, drizzly morning, it’s a pretty good deal. The only decisions I have to make are whether to brush my hair or invite birds to nest in it. Should I shower? Nah, I did that yesterday. (I think it was yesterday.)
The downside is the recluse thing. After a while, working alone makes you weird. One can only spend so much time discussing climate change with a dog, no matter how well-read she is. At home, you can’t blame Fred in accounting for whatever exploded in your microwave or the rotting bean casserole in the fridge. So eventually, you’ll crave the company of bipeds who don’t slobber.
When you work in solitary, the worst part is having no one to hug. There’s substantial evidence that hug-free environments are not healthy, even for writers. Legendary family therapist Virginia Satir—who gave advice before technology and potential lawsuits distanced us from physical contact—once prescribed four hugs a day to survive, eight to maintain and 12 to grow. She didn’t mean superficial, quickie hugs, either. To get the oxytocin flowing, you need genuine, first-rate embraces that last at least 20 seconds, like those boa constrictor-hugs Aunt Maude inflicted after you opened her crocheted socks at Christmas.
To your body, a hug is pure pleasure. Your skin’s pressure receptors signal the brain to release its hallelujah hormones. Like magic, blood pressure drops, mood elevates, and stress goes bye-bye. (The next time you’re pulled over for speeding, just ask the officer if he needs a hug.)
The good news is you can meet your daily hug quota without wearing socks or posting bail. Just call a professional cuddler. It’s as easy as ordering a pizza. He or she will arrive fully clothed from neck to ankle, ready to deliver hugs, cuddles or even tickles. It’s all perfectly platonic and legit, but the pros aren’t cheap. A 90-minute session costs about $90 before tip. That’s right, professional cuddlers earn $1 a minute, which has some of us (me) rethinking our career choice.
No one would fault you if embracing total strangers is a little too weird, but please stay open-minded about livestock. Experts are touting cow cuddling as the latest panacea for the stressed-out, hug-deprived masses. Of course, cows don’t make house calls, so you’ll have to find a field where you can hang out with these sensitive creatures. Bovine cuddle sessions will set you back $300, but you can bring a friend along. (It’s a good idea to have a witness, in case the cow ever suggests you were impolite.)
All the promotional cow cuddling videos show peaceful people in a state of bliss, just resting on the massive animals like furry body pillows or gently stroking their enormous heads. Even though everybody seems content, some animal gurus are concerned that this behavior is unnatural for cows, which don’t normally seek hugs, especially from other species.
If you’re concerned about cow welfare, but a human cuddler is too pricey, you can still fall back on relatives. Just call Aunt Maude and tell her you want to thank her for this year’s socks in person. The woman is a natural.
Jan A. Igoe is studying the cuddle curriculum online so she can take a second job to help the family neuroscientist pay off her student loans. Ask your kids to consider a cuddling career before it’s too late. Join the fun at HumorMe@SCLiving.coop.