Friday, July 28, 2006

~:T H E • S K I N • I'M • I N:~

So I had a really creepy dream last night.

There was this preteen boy who was born without skin. All of his organs and tendons and muscles were showing. It was scary to look at. His Aunt had decided to help him. She gave him the skin on her face. I didn't see him after the transplant surgery, but I saw her. She used to be an attractive woman. But now looked very strange with scars and stitches and transplanted pigskin stretched over her face, neck and head. She was in the mall, shopping. She had no more hair. And I remember admiring her for such a sacrifice. To live the rest of your life out looking like a burn victim, just so your nephew could feel a little more comfortable, was remarkable. She was out shopping for scarves and hats and wigs. She was happy to do it. The way she looked didn't seem to phase her. It was her maternal instincts that kicked in to try to help this boy. She saw the bigger picture.

And here I am, worried about how I look. Feeling fat and bloated. My face doesn't look like my own anymore. At least not to me. My hair is too think to style it the way I want to. My thighs are twice the size they used to be. I am thinking I'll never be the same. Envious of people jumping in and out of their cars, zipping around, standing tall, in movement, getting things done.

I am still. I am heavy. My back hurts constantly. I am getting tired of eating the same thing. I am tired of eating. All I can do is sit. And wait. And complain. Rather than bask in the joy of maternal love and sacrifice, I cry because I am afraid of the worst outcome and I complain about what I am giving up and about how badly I feel. I can't do half of what that Aunt in my dream is doing. Or maybe I can and don't know it yet.


Mary Campbell said...

Maybe the dream is YOU. Though you have not shed your skin for Bimp, you are doing what feels like shedding your skin. You are still, uncomfortable and impatient. Perhaps, the psychological equivalent to shedding your skin. Your fear is that you will never return to the land of "normal"...that you will bear these "scars" forever...because, perhaps, it FEELS like forever until he arrives. But, the truth is that you are making these sacrifices to save his life. The other truth is that you are human...not always able to "bask in the joy of maternal love"...who could with swollen feet, crazy hair and a serious "bloatation" condition...I would venture to say that you ARE doing what your Aunt was doing in your dream.

minus five said...

at least nobody peed on you in your dream. i can't imagine your situation at all. not even kind of. but i can help you with your hair because i have extra-thick hair. and just for you, this weekend, i will do a special blog post on all of my hair products and their benefits. in fact, i may send you this new product i found that i'm sure you can't get outside of the city. its my new favorite. you are going to be so happy one day that you documented all of this.

Anne Elser said...

Well Ladies, I think we could start charging people for our dream interpretation skills. Sounds like you're right on the money.
So Mary - I'm thinking that the skin is also this mask of sacrifice - in a good way. That it's a metaphor for the face I think I'm showing the world right now - not pretty, at least from my point of view, but it was meant to show the work I'm doing for this new person. I had a friend who turned sour on me a few years back who really hurt my feelings after a while. When she got pregnant with her first, she gained an enormous amount of weight and her face puffed up like crazy - even her nose got big. I remember judging her harshly - thinking she'd gained too much weight for her fucking nose to get so big. She didn't even tell me about her second born. I found out about him when she delivered. And she was huge for a long time afterward. I still judged her harshly, mostly because she had hurt me so. But now I see my own pregnant reflection and I worry the same thing's happening to me.
This obsession with appearance really is ridiculous. Remember when Catherine Zeta Jones (sp?) was pregnant during her Chicago performance at the Oscars? She was so big and so round. You could see it in her face, too. But I thought she was so beautiful. The first round-faced pregnant woman I'd appreciated. I hope that's how I look to the world. Shallow of me, no? I've had several other dreams about the appearance of my front yard and interactions with the neighborhood since my pregnancy. Interesting.

And you're right - I SO look forward to the land of normal. It's a fantasy now. Even without bedrest, I think there'd be an element of abnormality, of having to be careful and moving slowly. I had no idea there could be so many negative feelings associated with pregnancy. Silly me. They come with every kind of change in your life - good or bad.

And how do I temporarily fix these preggers blues? With hair product, of course! Thank you Sarah. You're a genius. Yay!