I'm not sure if she recognized me at first. When I'm in costume, I feel like I am a different person. She seemed nervous and anxious. I told her to calm the fuck down, as my alter-ego is prone to cursing. It seemed to work. "This is who I really am, grandma" I said, searching her eyes for recognition or understanding, "I'm a fucking jelehfish," I continued, cautiously.

"What does your girlfriend think about this?" She queried. "Do you still have a girlfriend?"

"No, grandma, I'm married... I'm married to the goddamned sea, don't you understand?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't. I'm afraid... you're upsetting me... please leave."

"OK, grandma, I love you--regardless of how you choose to live!" I screamed, slamming the door behind me. Still in costume, I tore through the nursing home with tears in my eyes.

For all of his admonitions about indulging my 'other life', my /submerged/ life, my psychologist had to admit the jellyfish costume was pretty neat. I noticed he was perspiring lightly. Or, perhaps it was the spray of the ocean, the fragrant lure of the jelehfish. I discretely turned the hue dial to a rose-tinted violet, which, if you are familiar with jellyfish mood-spectroscopy, indicates arousal. My silvery tentacles beckoned him toward me. The room seemed to tilt as if it were affixed to a boat.

The psychologist nervously glanced at his watch. "That's all the time we have today" he said, regaining only a fraction of his composure. "You aren't going to wear that into the lobby, are you?"

"No, of course not, because who wants to see an anatomically correct jellyfish with no clothes on?" I turned the hue dial to yellow, which is actually how jellyfish blush.

"Right, it simply wouldn't be appropriate... We clearly have a lot more to discuss. Will I see you next Thursday? Can you bring that costume?