Dear Counselor Chomp: Wait, What Is My Dream?

Dear Counselor Chomp,

My dream is to become an acrobat but I am old and fat. Also there is the possibility that becoming an acrobat isn’t my dream but is a metaphor for my dream, kind of like the Polaroid of arid Texas landscape Harry Dean Stanton’s character carries around with him in Wim Wenders’ film, “Paris, Texas,” which is a metaphor for his character’s dream, which is for a better life one would imagine, though one would be hard-pressed to imagine finding a better life in Paris, Texas.

Do you think my dream is a real dream—and if so, how will I make it as an acrobat—or a metaphor for a dream—and if so, what?

Thankfully yours,
Tumbling On

Dear Tumbling On,

Oh, dear. There’s one in every crowd, isn’t there.

And by “one,” I mean one old, fat, acrobat wannabe.

First, I think that you embedded the answer to your own problem in a clue in your letter, though perhaps unwittingly. Because, have you been to Paris, Texas?

It’s very hot. The whole state of Texas is, actually. I used to live in Texas, and I can vouch for the fact that heat, famous for thinning the blood, also quells the appetite.

And heat makes one languid, and while languishing, one’s muscles loosen. It’s the Bikram effect. Once you are permanently installed in Paris, Texas, you might find yourself with a much lither, younger-feeling, and bendy-er body. You will probably drink water out of metal bottles, and carry smelly grippy mats around, and your giant hat will be made from a sort of high tech yoga pants sweat wicking material with flowers embroidered onto your perky, perky hindquarters: a material that has not yet been invented, because you haven’t spent enough time dedicated to your dream yet, and because there are near-constant advances in this sector of the market.

Not to mention your butt.

But you will, and you will succeed. Or, not. There are certainly other ways of languishing in the heat. But you probably won’t know for another decade or so.

Second, have you realized that I am simply a metaphor for an advice columnist?

I mean, depending.

To get your question answered by Counselor Chomp, email it to churchchomp at gmail dot com.