When I lay in bed staring at the ceiling trying to will myself to fall asleep, I think about things and dream up stories in my head. Sometimes I'll be stuck on a deserted island with Antonio Banderas, sometimes I'll be at Fry's buying a P-4 7000. Whatever I want I can make happen in my imagination. But sometimes my brain seems to have a mind of its own.

When I was younger, around 12 I'd guess, I was so boy crazy it wasn't even funny. When I'd try to fall asleep I'd lay there and close my eyes and imagine myself walking down the street, and the boy I loved was walking towards me. (If my 12-year-old love is reading this, hi David!) Anyways, I'd make up an entire scenario in my head where I walk up to him, we start talking, and then we go make out in the alley.

But the same awful thing would always happen. As soon as I'd close my eyes and picture myself, I suddenly grew breasts. I'd open my eyes real fast, touch my chest, realize it was still as flat as ever, and then close my eyes and try to get on with my fantasy. But this time they'd be bigger, and the longer I kept my eyes closed, the bigger they got. But they didn't grow larger all around... oh no that would be okay. No, these breasts grew longer and longer, straight out, until they reached little David all the way down the street. They'd wrap around him and practically choke him, and then they'd grab him and pull him back to me. I seriously had the killer breasts from outer space. It was terrifying! I was so embarassed! I'd try to open my eyes and make it go away, but my room was so dark that all of my furniture started contorting until my room looked like it was full of killer breasts and they were coming to wrap around me and suffocate me. I seriously think my mom used to feed me magic mushrooms when she got mad at me.

Everything in my room was a killer breast, so I'd snap my eyes shut to make them go away. And then there I was with David all wrapped up and clinging to my chest, begging me to loosen my breastage death grip so he could breathe. I'd start to cry and try to run away, but these awful breasts of mine were connected to me so I couldn't get away from them.

And as if this wasn't enough, breasts started to grow out of my shoulders and thighs and stretch out and start to strangle strangers on the street. I'd scream and cry and beat myself in the chest as I tried to get some peaceful sleep when instead I was plagued with constant fears that I was gonna wake up an orphan, having discovered my parents mysteriously strangled in their bed.

Needless to say, I was scared to death of hitting puberty.