This one will be hard to write because it exposes just how vulnerable I am. No one likes to show their white underbelly.
Last night, lying in bed while watching TV, I posed the question to a sleepy Dave.
"What if ..", I started. He stopped me in mid-sentence.
"Be positive, think happy, positive thoughts."
"I know. But what IF this is bad. I'm worried what your reaction would be to me without breasts. Have you thought about it?"
"Yes. I have."
Tears, mine.
"And it doesn't matter. I will love you no matter what, okay?"
(Now this is funny.)
"Even if I look like a boy?"
(See, I get stupid when I cry.)
I don't remember what Dave said to that. I just remember the love in his eyes. He's not going anywhere. Even if I look like a boy.
I know it's all conjecture, unreasonable fear. But, like I said to him, our bedroom is the only place I can really get that out. Every other place I walk, I walk with confidence and a smile. He held me and said he understood. And then he went to sleep and I watched Animal Planet's Fatal Attractions.
And then I dreamed he took a second wife. A young, pretty, blonde (what?) wife.
We also had a maid.
AND granite countertops.
That's when I knew it was just a dream.
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