….
Turns out, security blankets
come in all shapes and
sizes. When I was 14
and newly thin,
mine was my Daddy’s
old grey hoodie, zipped
up to the neck and worn
rain, shine or one
-hundred degree sun.
Old Gray covered
a multitude of sins –
old fears,
new (slight) curves
and a bundle of nerves
tethering together who
I was and who
I might be
…………-come.
Sophomore year, I simply
unzipped it like an old skin,
and wandered in.
…
Prompted by Margo Roby’s Tryouts.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Ooh. I hope there’s a whole series of poems on this topic!
What hard, unsure years. It is a wonder we turned out at all what passes for normal.
🙂 I think I’ve put mine back on 🙂 I love the ending “wandered in.”
I’m back to being a hoodie girl, too. When it’s not 101 degrees at 4:50pm on September 24th, that is. Sigh.
I looove hoodies.
Maybe not a hoodie, per se, but I’m back to loose. Yes, sigh. The last stanza is a terrific turn from the beginning. The whole voice changes.
The uncertainties and embarrassment of being young pervade your poem,