eat it.

If I’m a vegetarian, why do I dream about eating meat? And it’s not a sexual thing, like I’m sucking down a kielbasa; I eat chicken sandwiches but it’s a dark secretive effort, like those dieters who eat cookies in the closet. I dreamt the other night that I was getting married to B., this guy I used to work with who had a zz-top-length goatee. All my family and friends were there for the wedding but I was crying because I didn’t want to marry him; I wanted to marry Mike. I knew I wanted a divorce when my new husband said, “Well, I hope her derriere doesn’t get any bigger.” WTF? I don’t eat meat! B.’s never said derriere!

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