Are You a Hugger?

Are you a hugger? Do you embrace embracing? I’ll admit it, I’m a full-fledged hugger. Not that I don’t occasionally find myself in awkward hugging situations. And yes, I suppose I, like most people, have my own set of hugging rules. For example, I don’t hug strangers. Well, unless we’ve somehow made an emotional connection, and then a handshake just doesn’t feel right, and a hug is just . . . well, perfect.

I don’t have a timer that beeps aloud when the appropriate amount of hugging time passes, but I do seem to have one internally. And when a person is a hanger-on’er hugger,(meaning the hug hangs on too long) I suddenly start feeling the need to pull away.

I have come in contact with over-eager huggers, people who seem to just want to hug everyone and most of the time they are also the hanger-on’ers and the too-tight-squeezers and the gotcha huggers. Gotcha huggers are the people who didn’t give you a pre-hug warning and then bam--there you are, with your body pressed tightly against someone, and if you’re really unfortunate, you’re wondering who they are, and why their hands are moving toward your ass.

Yup, especially in my younger days, I’ve come across quite a few opportunist huggers. Most opportunist huggers are of the male variety, and right after their arms wrap around you, you sense they are simply using the hug as a guise to cop a feel.

Unfortunately, when you open yourself up to the wonderful pleasure of hugging, you are prime bait for dirty ol’ men, or dirty young men. But I’ll be the first to tell you that it’s still worth the risk. Nevertheless, I’ve often found myself wishing I could call the hugging police.

Needless to say, I’ve never come across the huggers’ handbook, dictating the hugging etiquette, or the number to the hugging police.

Frankly, after enduring the smothering hugs of one of my great aunts as a child, it’s amazing I didn’t grow up to be an anti-hugger.

This aunt had boobs, huge boobs, and when she pulled me to her, I would somehow always get caught between Lucy and Ethel, and let me tell you, breathing while buried between Lucy and Ethel was not easy. Death seemed imminent. Now some men will tell you that’s the way to go. I’m not a man and I totally disagreed. To make the situation worse, the aunt was a hanger-on’er hugger and a squeezer. So whenever I’d see her coming, I’d always take a deep breath as if I was about to swim across the pool underwater, because once you found yourself between Lucy and Ethel, there was no telling when you’d come up for air.

Ahh, but even those oxygen-deprived hugs didn’t deter me from becoming a hugger. There is just something so comforting to wrap your arms around someone and squeeze. You are giving, you are taking, you are sharing.

Now I will have to tell you that like my aunt, I’ve been cursed with my own Lucy and Ethel pair. However, because I’m so short, few people are going without oxygen due to a hug from yours truly.

Nevertheless, the girls often do get in the way of hugging. Which can and has at times made hugging an awkward experience.

For people who know me, they mostly ignore my dynamic duo pair, but for those people who know me well enough that a handshake no longer fits the bill, but the relationship is new to the hugging stage, they tend to worry about bumping into the girls.

In addition to the boob issue, I’m short and that too can create awkward hugging if someone doesn’t want to lean down. I mean, my tiptoes only go up so high. Oh, and I often find myself with another hugging handicap. My hat.

You see, I wear hats at almost every writing conference, where I meet a lot of friends and therefore do a lot of hugging, and it almost never fails that when hugging I’ll get my hat knocked off. Ahh, but believe me, a good hug is always worth the scoop down to pick up the hat. And I always hope the lean down to hug my neck for my tall friends is worth the effort.

Now, while I totally believe in hugs, I know a lot of people who are simply hugging impaired or anti-huggers. I try not to judge these people. I even try not to push my hugs on them, because well, my hubby is one of them.

Hubby will never turn down a hug from me or the kids, but let anyone else open up their arms and come at him and he goes on all-panic mode. He becomes stiff, chest pulled in, butt out, and he stops breathing—and he’s not even worried about get stuck between Lucy and Ethel. It’s just down right terror of the impending hug.

I’ve only seen him turn down a few hugs, but watching him receive one from someone is downright comical because he comes off as about as warm as a concrete post in the Antarctic during a cold spell. And unfortunate for hubby, I’m not the only one who finds his awkward hugging skills funny.

We, hubby, daughter and I, were going out of town for a getaway weekend with my husband’s boss and his wife. When we arrived at the hotel, the lobby was packed with what appeared to be bikers--long haired, bearded, tattooed individuals. And oddly enough, they were all running around hugging each other. Not just one or two of them, but dozens of hugging bikers. Now there’s nothing wrong with this, but I’ll admit it looked rather odd. My hubby and his boss, whom I assume was also an anti-hugger, were more than perplexed. They even asked the hotel clerk what was up with the huggers. We were informed that a conference, “Hugs Not Drugs” was happening at the hotel.

Anyway, we get our hotel keys, get in the elevator and our daughter, only six at the time, leans up against the jeaned leg of what she thought was her daddy and . . . hugs it. Only problem was she was hugging the wrong jeans-covered leg. The biker dude just smiled down at our daughter. She looked up, and the man said, “Hi, I’m Steve.”

Embarrassed, she pulled away and then looked at her daddy and said, “He’s Steve, too.”

Hubby, being polite, held out his hand to introduce himself. The man, with a beard down to his chest and a snake tattoo on his forearms, looked at my husband’s outstretched hand, bypassed it, and gave him a big, an all encompassing bear hug. And you should know the guy was a hanger-on’er hugger and a squeezer, too. So there my hubby was, frozen with panic, butt held out, chest caved in, while being embraced tightly in an elevator in front of his boss. Hubby’s boss started coughing to cover his heehaws of laughter and even I had to bite back my giggles.

Poor hubby, not just because we laughed at him, but because he just doesn’t know what he’s missing. Below are some facts I found on the internet about hugging.



Hug for a healthy heart~ Hugging increases Oxytocin (a heart healthy hormone) and decreases the stress hormone Cortisol (the hormone that leads to high blood pressure and heart disease).

Hugs lead to a lowered heart rate~ Hugs also provide a calming effect. Those hugged are shown to have heartbeats five to ten beats slower per minute than those who are not hugging.

Hugs are good for blood pressure~ Hugging reduces blood pressure (good news for those with hypertension).

Full body hugs stimulate the nervous system~ Full body hugs have been shown to increase nervous system stimulation. This has been used as a physical therapy technique by some professionals.

Hugs release beneficial natural chemicals~ Who needs an artificial high when a hug has been shown to release dopamine—a natural “feel good” brain chemical.

In addition to the physiological benefits of hugs, hugs are purported to lessen loneliness, combat fear, increase self-esteem (Someone wants to hug me!), affirm relationships, diffuse tension, and convey appreciation.

So there are my thoughts, and my story on hugging. Are you a hugger? Do you have hugging rules? Have you hugged anyone lately? If not, do yourself a favor and go find someone to hug. It feels so good. And if you don’t have anyone around, consider yourself cyber hugged by me. Oh, and don’t worry about the girls.
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