With
luck, I’ll buy two, maybe three more beds in my life. After that I’ll be dead or in a
facility. God willing. After eight years on our current bed, my
husband’s hip needed a new one. The bed
seemed the same as it always had to me.
He assured me not…that outweighing me by 100 pounds made him more
sensitive to coil fatigue. I’m more
sensitive to insomnia induced chronic fatigue.
I hit half a dozen showrooms and learned that there are still just four
categories of mattresses: sensory
deprivation, La Brea Tar Pit, trampoline, and rock.
Every
“Mattress Something” and furniture store showcases the darling of the bedding
world: Temperpedic memory foam. Two
things come to mind when I lie on one:
1. A screaming Han Solo melted in whatever it was in whichever Star Wars
movie it was. 2. Bad sex.
Good sex requires a bit of bounce and recoil. Temperpedic mattresses are
black holes of nothingness.
Pillowtop
mattresses suck. Literally. All that pillowy fluffiness twists me every
which way but loose. When I sleep Superman-style, I suffocate. I don’t weigh enough to get down to the
supportive layer. Nobody does. The
coil-count is irrelevant and without a “low-profile” box spring, a ladder is
required to get into bed. Maybe if the
ladder came with a young fireman, I’d consider it.
Then
there’s “Plush.” But not like a blankie,
or sable, or the Taj Mahal. They’re plush like a bounce
house without the fun colors; soft-ish on the surface, firm-ish underneath. Some are pillowtop wannabes, and some have
coils making your hip’s acquaintance.
But they’re all springy. Very
springy. Bigger person tosses,
littler person flings out of bed springy. A Tigger bed.
Finally,
“firm” is mattress code for a slab of granite. Been there, done that. I traded in a new temperpedic for the slab
eight years ago. I ended up with a
princess and the pea bed and needed the ladder.
I moved it into my son’s room and got a bounce house from Big Lots.
After
my recon, I took my husband to “Mattress Something” and our best pals came along. Two “plush” models made the final cut. I liked one, he liked the other. We compromised on the one he liked. The needs of greater weight prevailed. While he and his pal were doing the money deal,
my pal and I tested out the weight theory.
Did his choice feel to his 200 lbs like my choice felt to my 110 lbs?
Together
my pal and I go about a deuce and a quarter.
Close enough. I told her to lie
down on me to see how each mattress felt with the added weight. She climbed aboard and propped up a bit with
her forearms across my chest. The theory
held true; there was a difference. We bounced girl-on-girl a few times just to
make sure that would work too. It did. And because they were busy trying to get a
free pillow, our guys missed the show. She
told hers about it but I never did. A
girl needs a secret.
