Last night my dream was so real. He was everything I find sexy, charming, handsome. He knew how to kiss me. We sat in a restaurant, we laughed and touched hands. He told me I wasn't like all of the other girls.
I laughed, and joked, "tell me more."
"Well you know..."
For the first time he wasn't articulate.
"No, I don't. What do you mean?"
I was still smiling but I got a sinking feeling.
He held his hands about a foot apart, like he was describing the size of something.
I looked on, confused.
And then it hit.
"Go on." I told him, dreading his next words.
He stammered a bit, "Well, you know. Other girls are just smaller."
What a horrrible dream! Maybe a little shallow, but still horrible. My teenage neuroses were alive and kicking when I woke up. The same neuroses that demand I reassure anyone who reads this that I am not overweight. I often feel like I am, but objectively I am not. How fast did I get my ass to the gym this morning? I am sure there is a message in that dream somewhere - there always is. The only thing that stands out for me besides the fact that I need to go to the gym is one line that I wrote. I knew it as soon as I wrote it:
he is everything I find sexy
And the message? Clearly I find the wrong things sexy.