As I type this, I’m sitting in the ugly chair. The chair arrived in our living room as a practical joke over a month ago, and we’re going to get rid of it. Really. Probably soon.
…but it’s so comfy.
My husband brought it home because his parents were throwing it out (they wanted to get it out of their garage. It has been living there instead of in their house because it is so very ugly). He put it in our living room as a joke, and when I got home I did find it very funny. It doesn’t match our living room furniture at all, and if it was ever in style (which I doubt), it probably peaked in around 1984. Ha ha, very funny Andy, now get that chair outta here.
Except then I made the horrible mistake of sitting in the chair.
I would show you a picture of this chair, but I can’t do that because I am smart enough to know that the manufacturer probably made more than one. There is someone on the internet somewhere in the world who has this chair. Or someone’s very sweet Great-Aunt Nellie has this chair, and they would be offended if I besmirched their Great-Aunt Nellie’s taste. Therefore, no picture of the chair.
I will tell you, though, that it is a slate blue recliner with brown wooden arms. There is a weird stitching design on it that is tough to describe, but personally I think it looks like hundreds of hot dogs – little Barbie-sized hot dogs. The stuffing in the chair is yellow. I know this because there are a few places where it is peeking out around the hot dogs.
THIS CHAIR IS UGLY (no offense to your Great-Aunt Nellie).
I tried thinking of ways to make it less ugly. There are so slip covers that would cover this odd shape, and having the chair reupholstered would cost way more than it’s worth. Finally I decided to buy a throw blanket to try to distract from the chair’s, um, essence. I thought if I could make it look more normal, maybe it could stay. My new throw is very comfy and soft, but it didn’t do much for the chair. It’s like trying to dress up an ostrich. No matter what you put on it, it’s going to look ridiculous.
Now we’re entering dangerous territory. We put the chair in a perfect corner of the room “just until we get rid of it.” We brought over a lamp to give extra light “only until we get rid of it.” Andy told me he’s bringing up an extra end table to put next to it “so that I can put my coffee there. You know, just until we get rid of it.”
Y’all, I am seriously concerned that WE MIGHT KEEP THIS CHAIR.
Andy had one of his friends over the other day, and I almost apologized: “I am sorry about the chair in our living room…it was a practical joke that has gone awry.” Then I thought that possibly the only thing weirder than having an ugly chair is bringing attention to the fact that yes, we know the chair is ugly, we both say we’re getting rid of it, but we both secretly love it.
Eh, it’s not like I was ever going to be in Better Homes and Gardens anyway. Who cares if my living room looks a little bizarre? The chair is, uh, a statement piece. YES – a statement piece. I’m not sure what the statement is, though…possibly “life was better in the eighties” or “don’t conform to modern societal trends” or “eat more hot dogs.” I guess it can be interpreted in a number of ways. What a deep chair.
The chair can be a boost to my self-esteem, too. When I look in the mirror and feel ugly, I can think, “Yes, but I’m not as ugly as that horrible chair.” Then I can walk downstairs, look at the chair, and laugh. Then I’ll feel better, because everyone knows that laughing is healthy. This is a medicinal chair.
Have I made enough justifications yet? Can I keep the chair? (Better Homes and Gardens editors need not comment).
Excuse me while I take a nap in this comfy thing.