Messrs. Abercrombie and Fitch,

I haven’t had a dream in a long time. I am assuming this can probably be attributed to the fact that I haven’t slept for a long time. Why can’t I sleep, you ask?

I can’t sleep because I worry so much. I lay down to relax my tired body, overtaxed with a multitude of possibly world-affecting decisions, and I toss and turn. I sweat through my sheets. I practice deep breathing. I visualize myself in a special place where only I can go. Most of the time, though, I just cry. Sad as it must sound, I quietly sob into my pillow each night, always questioning who and what I am.

I worry about my teeth. Are they straight enough? Are they white enough? Are they too big or too small? Was there anything in them at any time during the previous 12 hours that would have perhaps left a bad impression with anyone? I have them whitened at least twice a month, use whitening toothpaste and floss after every meal. But is it enough? What else could I do?

I also worry about my hair. It’s never been perfect, always a little too, I don’t know, brown, I guess. Do people appreciate the time and effort that I put into my hair each morning? Do they realize that practically every single strand is exactly where it should be? If they only knew. But I really don’t want them to know. I try to make it look messy on purpose. I want people to think that despite spending upwards of two hours on these locks, I really don’t care.

Are you starting to understand how hard my life is?

Oh, and my clothes. Jesus, don’t get me started on my clothes! I swear, if I have to pick out one more outfit, I am going to scream. It’s the same problem I have had with my hair. I want people to notice how absolutely outstanding I look, yet at the same time I struggle all night trying to mentally put together a simple blue jeans and t-shirt combination. Who would have ever guessed that there could be so many different possibilities for flip-flops! They just scream, “Look at me! I don’t care what I am wearing. These are flip-flops! Do you see? So what if they cost $55, don’t you get it? Flip-Flops!” Will I forever be so misunderstood?

I know that part of the problem is the lighting in my bathroom. It is definitely not very flattering. For one, it hardly shows my sweet six-pack abs. Whoever invented this lighting system, if he knew how sweet my six-pack abs were, they would have spent much more time with it. I have installed my own personal light, a better six-pack illuminator, which beautifies my god-like physique. But that’s just part of the solution. What is the use of having these beautiful six-pack abs if no one will see them? How can I share my six-pack with the world yet make it seem as though I have never been inside a gym?

Sand volleyball helps, and I am sure that whoever invented sand volleyball definitely had my sweet six-pack abs in mind. I can’t plan sand volleyball all day, though, can I? I can’t just tear my shirt off in public. That would be too easy. But if only I could! The world would then be privy to both my sweet six-pack abs and my gorgeously tanned, hairless body. I would never, ever have to tell anyone of the trouble I go to just to deaden each and every hair follicle on my bronzed body.

Now you see how it is for me. The agony of another night still awaits me, as surely as the coming fashions in next month’s Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. Yet I carry on. How? I don’t know. The worries are endless. Am I tall enough? How about my manhood? I am constantly bombarded with e-mails and TV advertising telling me over and over how small I am down there and how I could just take a pill and I would be bigger, more satisfying. Are my calves sufficiently cut? Should I consider calf implants? They have calf implants, you know, and despite the expense, wouldn’t they be totally worth it? But would anyone notice? Probably not.

How do I survive, you ask? It’s not easy. Each day is a struggle to achieve that mythical balance of recognition for my god-like perfection, while still maintaining a sense of modesty, a sense of unpretentious na‹vet‚. Many late nights I turn on the television or read the newspaper. I am always startled to find the wild stories of starving peoples and war.

Do these people realize how lucky they are? Each day for them is filled with mind-numbing activities from which it is possible they may never even suspect that they lack straight white teeth or beautiful clothes. In fact, they may not even notice that they often have no teeth or clothes at all! Oh, how I long for such a life, a life that must be filled with sleep and the never-ending dream of a perfectly sculpted, sweet six-pack (much like my own).

Fashionably yours,

P.L. O’Bryan

Patrick O’Bryan is a senior in English from Indianola.