Day 89

I have been dwelling on this whole height thing for 2 whole days now. It’s not healthy. My hives are going to come back! I was in the shower; the place where most of my epiphanies happen (geez, that sounds dirty), and I think that finding out my height has changed is the same as my self-imposed hair color change. The variable in this scenario is that I did not choose to be shorter. It is a physical attribute that has changed, but has no bearing (or shouldn’t) on me as a person. My physical self is separate from my personality and who I am really (I was going to write “who I am inside,” but that seems too much like a lyric from a Disney movie or something). This is kind of yet another twist on my yearlong search for self-confidence, self-awareness, and BLONDE-ness.

On another note, I’d like to bring back a segment I like to call:

DR. BLONDIE’S WEIRD DREAM ANALYSIS

I have been having this strange recurring dream for probably about the last 10 years of my life. I’m approximately 12 year old and the entire dream is my point of view. I’m at the grocery store with my mom and my grandma, like we used to do almost every Saturday when I was young (in real life, I would help my grandma pick out groceries and she taught me how to tell when fruit is ripe - sometimes you have to knock on the cantaloupe, etc). In the dream I am pushing a cart and my grandma is pushing a cart. Somehow I know my mom is at the service desk getting my grandma taxi tokens. My grandma is picking out tomatoes and she asks me to go get the milk. I don’t recall her saying this to me, it’s almost as if she communicates it to me telepathically.

I wander over to a display of milk. They are in gallon and half-gallon jugs and they are on ice in a display just like fruit. They are stacked and arranged just as though they were apples. I pick up a gallon and I see something dark floating inside. I put it back in the ice. I pick up another one and it has something dark floating in it, too. I pick up a half-gallon jug and it has something in it and I turn the jug around and see a baby’s head. This is not a baby doll head, but a real, human, dead baby head. I freak out, screaming and drop the jug on the floor and everyone in the grocery store is staring at me. The jug bursts open as it hits the floor and the milk goes everywhere and there are streaks of blood in it. My grandma comes over and looks at me like I’m crazy and that baby parts in the milk is normal.

Sometimes the dream ends there, sometimes my mom or my grandma say things like “that’s the sign of good milk,” or “that’s how you know it’s time.” It’s all very creepy and disturbing. This is the primary reason I stopped drinking milk.

This dream has a much deeper meaning, not only because I’ve had it more times than I can count, but because of the strong symbolism contained within. Here are my thoughts:

1. The fact the both my mother and my grandmother are in the dream leads me to believe that this dream is about my feelings about motherhood.

2. The babies in the milk is very maternal. Babies live on their mother’s milk.

3. In the dream, I am disturbed by the babies in the milk, but no one else is. This must me that my ideals of motherhood do not adhere to society’s standards.

4. We’re in the grocery store, doing the weekly shopping, which is traditionally a woman’s role (if this is circa 1940).

5. The milk is on display because my internal clock is trying to tell me to have babies.

6. I had this dream last night because of my fear that my shrinking has to do with a lack of calcium.

So there you have it. Dr. Blondie does it again. It’s about babies and shit again, but tell me that dream isn’t ROYALLY FUCKED UP. It’s like a horror movie. It has forced me to change my milk-consumption habits.

Today gets 3 Barbie Warhols: