I know a few people who make a habit of flipping their mattresses on a monthly basis so they can avoid the inevitable and much-dreaded mattress "sinkhole" for as long as possible. I, however, haven't flipped my mattress even once.
That's because it weighs about 900 pounds.
I purchased it six years ago when I finally decided to splurge on a good mattress and box spring, something that might last a little longer than baseball season. No more cheap fabric that would tear if my pajama buttons rubbed against it. No more metal springs popping up like jack-in-the-box clowns and impaling my spleen.
No more unfamiliar brands with names like "Snores Galore." No, this time, I wanted nothing less than a famous-name, high-quality mattress.
At the very first furniture store, I actually found the perfect mattress. It was thick and solid and had a built-in puffy top, kind of like a giant pillow. Even better, it was on sale for half-price.
At the clerk's insistence, I stretched out on it. It had been so long since I'd slept on anything that didn't resemble a ski slope or a topographical map of the Himalayas, I'd forgotten what a level mattress felt like. It was heavenly. I actually could feel my back muscles writing me a thank-you note.
"And watch this!" the clerk said. He sat down hard on the other side of the bed and then bounced a few times. "Feel anything?"
I didn't feel a thing. My side of the bed never moved, not even a smidgeon. I was sold.
"I'll take it!" I practically shouted at the guy as I whipped out my credit card.
"Great!" he said. "Will you be taking it with you today? If not, you have 48 hours to pick it up."
I just stared at him. "You don't deliver?"
He shook his head. "Not on discounted items. They are strictly cash and carry."
So nice of him to conveniently forget to mention that fact until after he'd made me fall in love with the darned mattress, I thought bitterly. I could just picture myself lugging it on my back out to the car and then hoisting it up onto the roof and strapping it down.
"Well, I guess I won't take it, then," I said, sighing.
The guy obviously couldn't have cared less. Before I could say another word, he'd already rushed off to assist another customer...someone who probably owned an 18-wheeler.
I finally ended up spending nearly $2,000 on a famous-brand memory-foam mattress. It didn't have springs or even need a box spring. It was just a thick slab of foam...that weighed about as much as a cruise ship. I also bought a bed frame with a solid platform on it, to support the new mattress.
Believe me, getting used to a mattress that had no bounce at all wasn't easy. The foam, which was made to contour and conform to the exact shape of the sleeper's body, felt kind of like wet cement when I first stretched out on it. For the first few seconds, my body sank into it, then stopped when the foam finally contoured to it. I feared that if my 100-lb. dog ever jumped on me while I was lying in bed, I'd sink out of sight, kind of like in quicksand, and be smothered to death.
But as time passed, I learned to love the mattress, especially since it contained nothing that could squeak or poke me when I moved. The only problem was, it was too heavy for me to flip over. In fact, just trying to lift the edges of it whenever I changed the sheets was enough to herniate some essential body part.
But considering the price I paid for it, I intend to keep this mattress for at least the next 30 years. I mean, I could have bought about 10 of my usual mattress sets for the same amount this one cost me. On the plus side, however, this mattress will prevent me from ever gaining weight. That's because I'm afraid if I get any heavier, I'll sink so far down into the foam, it will completely swallow me.
So if I ever go missing...please check my mattress.
Sally Breslin is an award-winning humor columnist, Rottweiler enthusiast and the author of There's a Tick in my Underwear! Contact her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .