OK, I’m going to go with my name change of the day (Paranoid Princess) and talk about fears. Not the typical “I’m afraid of being alone” or “I’m afraid of heights”, but the more truly outrageous things that I’m ascared of. And, I warn you now, they’re silly, unjustified and I know that, but I still just can’t get past them.
1) Elevators. I don’t mind being on them. I don’t mind them moving. Closed spaces don’t frighten me. What am I afraid of then? Well, when I get on or off of an elevator, I’m afraid it’s suddenly going to drop and cut me in half. I still get on them, but if you’re ever with me and I hesitate before getting on or off of it, you’ll know why.
2) Being forgotten. I’m not afraid that when I’m gone people won’t remember me, that’s not it at all, because I already know that I am unforgettable! (Go away Narcissistic Princess, it’s my turn!) I’m afraid of things like when you go to the doctor and the nurse puts you in the exam room and leaves you there. What if no one ever comes back? What if I’m left in there and there is some emergency, will they remember to let me know I have to get out and save myself?
3) Bridges. I’m not so much afraid of heights. I’m not afraid of water. I’m afraid of the bridge itself. What if it suddenly breaks while I’m on it? What if I’m driving across a huge overpass and it breaks in half and I fall in? Will I die when my car hits the ground, or will I be able to land just right, have the air bags go off and walk away unscathed? And worse yet – what if there is a huge traffic back up and we’re stopped on the bridge and someone blows it up?
4) Bleeding to death from something dumb like a shaving accident. I’m on blood thinners, so I tend to bleed quite a bit when I cut myself. However, I’ve never been in grave danger from it. Yet, I’m worried that some day, I could be. How sad would that be to open up the paper, read my obit and find out I died because I picked a scab off of my knee.
5) Nuclear war, or as our illustrious president calls it “nucular war”, which might frighten me more. I’m not afraid of getting blown to smithereens. I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of surviving it. Because there won’t be many survivors at all, and if you’re one of them, it’s not going to be pretty. Yes, I’d be sad that most of the people I know would be gone. However, the scariest part of the whole surviving thing for me would be that I, more than likely, would not be able to curl my hair, or put any kind of styling product in it. I have naturally curly hair, to the extreme, so if I don’t load it up with product, I look like the love child of Roseanne Roseannadanna and Don King.
Other random fears: juicy chicken, bugs laying eggs in my ears, and the mole inside my belly button that I never knew was there until I was pregnant and my belly button popped out. (It's since gone back to normal, and tho I can't see it, I know that mole is there and I'm afraid it's going to turn out to be my undoing).
Now, don't look at me like that. You know I can't stand your disapproving stares. Everyone is afraid of something - what's in YOUR closet?
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