Coats and Cupboards

Dear Mummy and Daddy,
 
Last Christmas you gave me a coat.
It was the most expensive coat that I’d ever owned –
I know this because you left the tags on,
incase I didn’t like it and needed to take it back.
The thing is, I loved it. I really did.
But I was absolutely terrified of it.
 
It cost ten times what most of my clothes do,
and I wish I was exaggerating that, really.
But I’ve never been very good with money –
that is, with spending it on myself at all.
Still, I hung it with the other coats
with the full intention of wearing it.
 
And then I just…didn’t.
 
After a few weeks, when we got the cat,
it became clear that hanging it there
was just going to get it covered in fur –
so I carefully brushed it clean
and hung it in the wardrobe instead.
 
And I still didn’t wear it.
 
When I looked at it I mostly had excuses:
it’s too nice to wear to most of the places I go;
it’s too warm now to need a coat that big;
I didn’t quite get all of the cat hair off.
 
It is now almost a year since you gave me it,
and, well, I’ve got a confession to make –
I’m never going to wear it.
 
I’m not just saying that because I haven’t yet.
You see, it’s now four sizes too big for me,
and now it will be the really expensive coat
that you brought me and that I never wore,
because I was too afraid of its price tag.
 
I just hope that I can get the rest of the cat hair off
so that this metaphor for my fear of money
…um, makes a reasonable price on eBay.
 
Love, your daughter-in-law.