So, An Id And A Super-ego Walk Into Dream...

I have been suffering acute feelings of too-ugly-to-leave-the-house-ness recently. I think this is due, in part, to feeling a bit insecure after having finished up my job at the shoe store before taking up full time work at home. Who am I again? What does my life look like? Do I really ever need to leave the house again?

This is also due, in part, to my being rather ugly lately. Don't try to console me. It's true. I've been sick for nearly a week, I haven't been able to take the clippers to my hair because of a jacked back, and I've been breaking out something fierce for months. I'm pale, shaggy, blotchy, and prone to a particularly unsexy kind of groaning.

Some part of my subconscious is trying to give me little pep talks through a recurring series of dreams, though, which is kind of heart-warming. I must like me. Like really like me!

In one of these dreams, this cute little woman keeps trying to come on to me. She sits down next to me, chats me up, touches my arm. At one point, she reaches down, pulls up my skirt, and tells me how much she likes my hairy thighs. I look down, and my thighs are exceedingly hairy, hairier than in real life even, but with her verbal suggestion, I buy just how hot they are. My hairy thighs are double-T hott with some sexy on the side. I decide that I love my hairy thighs, too! In fact, why not show off how confident I am in my hirsute beauty and hike my short skirt even shorter!

Of course, because even in my dreams I am prone to knee-jerk monogamy, the Palinode came into the room, and I pretended that I was showing off my hairy thighs for him and not the hot little number who was trying to pick me up. She looked depressed about my hetero marriage, but I didn't mind for long, because I suddenly said the best thing I've ever said in a dream.

I said, and I quote, "Check out these getaway sticks, baby."

Check out these getaway sticks, indeed.

In another of these pep talk dreams, which I just woke out of, I have a svelte figure despite all the food I keep eating. I eat cakes and chicken legs and milkshakes, and yet my waist stays slim. At some point in the middle this weird food porn, someone walks past me, slaps my butt, and says something like "how do you do it?" or "keep doing what you're doing, because it's working", and I beam over fistfuls of food with my mouth stuffed to the teeth, because, at that moment, I know exactly how awesome I am, and I am awesome.

These dreams are obviously about things which make me feel insecure, but part of me must actually really dig what I've got going on, despite the sick, shaggy, blotchy thing I'm presently trying to carry off. Of course, it looks like my Id wants to off my Super-go so we can just eat all the things and be hairy and merry, but that doesn't support my I-love-myself-I-really-must theory, plus, everything I know about Freud I just read in a Wikipedia article, so nothing I've written down today is based in any actual, established knowledge, except for the term "getaway sticks", which is a real thing people used to say.

And now I have to run. I may be suffering acute feelings of too-ugly-to-leave-the-house-ness, but I'm going to leave the house and go soak up some of my sweet Shanan_S anyway. No point in keeping these hairy thighs and my voracious appetite to myself!