And then she said, “that’s because your overactive imagination gets in the way of reality.” As if.

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It’s no secret that I see a therapist. In fact, I think most of us would benefit greatly from therapy. But the weird thing is that the people I feel need it most think they don’t *need* therapy. I’m telling you, you need therapy. Trust me.

Anyway, I was recently in the therapist’s office for my usual hour long visit.

I was staring out the window, admiring the downtown skyline, when she asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about the time I won the Miss America pageant.”

“You were Miss America?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

“I had no idea.”

“Well that was a different time in my life. It’s all a blur.”

“I’m going to say something here. I don’t think you were ever in the Miss America pageant. And I don’t think you were ever Miss America.”

“Really? Because I feel like an ex-reigning Miss America…girl.”

“Were you in a lot of pageants growing up?”

“No. I thought pageants were stupid. I had friends who did them. Ooh. I *was* a cheerleader in high school. Does that count?”

“No. It doesn’t. Being a cheerleader in high school isn’t the same thing as being crowned Miss America.”

“That’s weird. I would have sworn I won the Miss America pageant.”

“That’s because your overeager and overactive imagination gets in the way of reality. Your life reads like a novel. You know, fiction.”

“Yes. I understand that novel means fiction. In fact, that’s one of my biggest pet peeves. When people say ‘fiction novel.’ I mean, duh, if it’s a novel then clearly it’s fiction. No need to say ‘fiction novel.’ You know what I mean?”

“Let’s stay on topic. We’re talking about the difference between reality and the reality in your head.”

“You know what else I hate? I hate when people use the term ‘hardly’ incorrectly. Like, ‘I couldn’t hardly move after my workout.’ It makes me cringe. I want to teach a class on the proper use of the English language.”

“Right after you win the Miss Universe pageant?”

“Wait. You think I could win?”

(furious scribbling on notepad)

“What are you writing?”

“Just taking a few notes. And I’m upping the dosage on your medication.”

“Can you write me a script for Valium?”

(bell chimes)

“That’s all we have time for today.”

“Alrighty. This was all good, yes?”

“Good luck in the Miss Universe pageant.”

“Thanks!”