I’m Hot

In my pockets of narrow sleep window between baby feeding sleeps, I have been having THE MOST AMAZINGLY WEIRD DREAMS, like last night I dreamt I was driving around in a giant cardboard box and the night before Dolly Parton was my daughter, and she was an actual toddler sized Dolly Parton and it was my job to dress her. But there’s one from last week that I really must document here so that I never forget it, because it’s just that great, steeped in both narcissism and insecurity, and just VERY well written by my subconscious.

I’m sitting in a high school or college class, a class that obviously I realize I haven’t been to in months but today, there’s a Test. I’m sitting next to Hot Guy, like general faceless Hot Guy who’s kinda mean, but is definitely hot, and is wearing a Hat. He asks me for a pencil, and I can feel very clearly that he’s never spoken to me before. I give him a pencil, and I wink at him, and return to my phantom test. But Hot Guy keeps looking at me, like he’s realizing something profound. And he says to me, you’re Hot. And I look at him and say: I know. The test ends, and Hot Guy follows me out into the hallway, not done with me. No, I’m serious. You’re very hot. Again, I turn to him with a slightly upturned smile and say, ….I know. I head towards my locker slash car slash to pick up Dolly Parton from preschool, and the Hot Guy still follows me, so urgently. He catches up with me, desperate for me to understand: No, wait. I never realized it before. You’re actually very, VERY hot. I turn to him, calm and knowing, like he’s telling me that there is such a thing as gravity. And after a fully dramatic pause, I say to him, one last time: …..I know.

Please note that on a day to day basis, like walking around the house and eating granola bars and folding towels, I do not carry with me a sense that I am Hot, but it’s nice to know that some part of my brain disagrees and is COMPLETELY FULL OF ITSELF.

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