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Adult swaddling

“Please don’t make me adult,” howls your inner child nearly all the time. Kicking and screaming at the tube barriers, holding a protest placard (metaphorical or literal) saying, “I am getting really quite cross now,” hell-bent on self-sabotage via terrorist friends, mean men or tequila. Please don’t ask anything of me. Please don’t make me THINK. Enough with the thinking.

Well, inner child, we have reached a new level of self-care for you. Coming straight from Japan where they are no strangers to cultural infantilism trends, is adult-swaddling.

According to a report in Quartz, at the forefront of the anxiety battle is something called Otonamaki. Which translates as “adult wrapping”. New mothers are swaddling themselves as a form of therapy to relieve the stress of birth. But maybe there’s never a bad time for a quick swaddling. It could be part of foreplay. Almost.

First you get wrapped cross-legged in a cloth which – unless you are yoga-centric – looks awkward, potentially uncomfortable even. Then you are rocked backwards and forwards, as if you were in the womb, for about 20 minutes. Not unlike a gyoza being tossed in a pan. And you emerge with all the freshness and sense of security of a newborn baby. What? SCREAMING? The report was quick to qualify that no healthcare professionals can find any evidence for this being of any medical use whatsoever. Spoilsports.

Can anyone think of anything nicer than being swaddled (in cashmere? Just a thought) like a precious little dumpling to try and recover from the strain of 2017? But, equally, has it really come to this? Now where’s my blankie?

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