August 21, 1995  □  Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

I dream that I have four breasts, one pair right above the other.

This isn’t really too annoying. Because the lowers are only about half the size of the uppers, I can’t see them very well, and find it possible to ignore them most of the time.

The worst problem is shopping for a bathing suit. I try every possible style, and nothing looks okay. I finally decide that the best solution is to get one with a really big bra and stuff two breasts into each cup.

I find a blue one that’s quite big—but not big enough. The stuffing operation doesn’t work out very well, and at the same time the suit is too big in the waist. Apparently there are no swimsuits with huge tops and more or less average middles and bottoms. I give up.

Then I meet a little girl who has four breasts too—little baby ones. She feels miserable about it. I try to reassure her: I tell her I have a fairly normal life—a job, children, have even been married. This makes her feel much better, I can tell.

But I don’t tell her about shopping for a bathing suit.