The realization came as a shock to me, seeing as I am revolted by touch most often. The first time it happened was three years ago. The little boy I was babysitting (not my favorite thing to do-I was desperate for money) fell asleep while we were watching a movie. He wanted to be held, so he'd crawled up into my uninviting lap. The feeling of his steady breathing, his adorable little face resting on my chest; I didn't want to move, so I slid down onto the couch, and we both slept for hours. I couldn't let it go - that feeling...of...of touch.

Sometimes I wonder why I recoil when people - anyone: friends and strangers alike - run up for a surprise hug or pat me on the head or just reach out and touch me. It doesn't make sense, really, being the youngest of four children, but it's always been a part of who I am.

Recently, a friend just collapsed onto me. Whether tired or just lazy, this person used me as a human pillow. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't recoil. I was comfortable and not disturbed by this form of touch.

It's just come to me - I need to gain a hundred pounds in order to become a human pillow - that's my calling in life. If it worked with the kids I've babysat and my niece and this friend, that has to be it.

Like in So I Married An Axe Murderer, "I'm a human blanket." Only a pillow.