Sometime last year I was sitting in my living room at home with my sister, and she told me to tell her a story. Here it is, with illustrations:
Once upon a time there was a snowman. This snowman was very unhappy with himself.
He had a serious problem: he didn't like to be cold. He began to engage in very self-destructive behaviors like smoking and standing next to fires.
Eventually his friends intervened and made him go see a counselor. Through these sessions he determined that he did not identify as a snowman, so he had reconstructive surgery and became a scarecrow. From then on he spent his days happily in the sun with his arms outstretched.