WORRY (ALWAYS)

I worry about everything to extremely ludicrous levels.  It’s sad because it keeps me from doing many things that I think I would otherwise enjoy.  Since my list of fears could go on for volumes, I’ve compiled a list of the top 10.

10.  Purchasing a new phone.  I know, this is a stupid one, but I panic at the thought of it. I don’t enjoy spending years with a device that has seen me at my most vulnerable just to throw it away and start new with something because it’s fancier.  The thought of transferring media and whether or not I’ll be able to adjust to new technology haunts me.  I can’t stand technology as it.  I started writing this book on my cave wall long before it found its way to a computer.  I also hate the status that’s associated with phones.  Everyone just stares at your device and pretends not to judge you.  It’s ok, you tell yourself you don’t care but secretly you’re trying to figure out what’s wrong with your super cool EnV2.  (I’m aware they stopped making them 5 years ago!)  It’s an honest fear that I have and that’s why I’ll wait 10 years or until the phone dies before making the transfer.

9.  Being mistaken for a woman when I make a call.  Up until I hit puberty I sounded like Lisa Simpson.  There, I said it.  As a child I was so self conscious about it.  The other children would always laugh at me.  I didn’t know what the hell my problem was.  Why on earth did God bless me with such irritating vocals?  I knew from my own Grandmother amongst others that smoking would give you a raspier and deeper voice.  What I didn’t know was that it would take years of smoking.  In the sixth grade I would pilfer cigarettes from my Dad and grandma in hopes that I too could have a deeper voice.  So there I was smoking these long Virginia Slims aiming to sound like Jimmy Durante.  That would’ve been really neat.  However, I had to wait for puberty for my voice to settle.  Had I not been made fun of so greatly I probably wouldn’t have this fear.  Whenever I make a call or I’m waiting to order from a drive-thru I always wait to hear “Yes ma’am.”

8.   Man Boobs and puffy nipples.  This one’s a pretty self explanatory worry.  I think most men have it.  I’ve always had a pretty chubby stomach.  It’s a feature that I’ve grown used to.  I’m not willing to give up cookies and cake for toned abs.  I don’t give a shit.  Everything else on my body is toned so I don’t worry much.  However (I have no idea why) whenever I panic about something, or I’m scared, I grab hold of my chest.  It’s just a reaction I have.  Last time I reacted this way I walked past a dumpster and there was a man inside.  He wasn’t dead, just sleeping I told myself.  He’d be awake by morning.  Well, I grabbed hold of my breast (is it alright to call it a breast? Or is that not manly?) and noticed there was something to really grab hold of.  The whole walk home I wouldn’t let it go.  I was grabbing at myself and shaking to fill the jiggle.   I was forming man boobs, or ‘moobs.’   I have nightmares about large breasts growing complete with Christmas tree nipples.   For weeks after I worked on nothing but my chest to tame the beasts. 

7.  Farting in public.   While I find bodily noises to be pretty entertaining, I don’t find them funny if they’re coming out of me.  I will go to any lengths or measures to cover up anything that comes out of me, so to speak.  I used to work in a pet supply store that sold a lot of gross things.  One shipment day I wasn’t feeling terrific unloading a palette.  So I waited for my two employees to grab stuff to put out and when they were gone I let a little one sneak out.  Evidently these are the worst.  The smell that came out was indescribable.  I waved my arms and an empty cardboard box to dissipate the smell, to no avail.  At this point, my co-worker turns the corner and lets out this horrible ‘blech’ sound while scrunching up his face.  “What is that smell?” So I did what anyone else in that situation would do.  I told him it was rancid fish food, and it all needed to be thrown away.  So I dumped about $20 worth of fish food claiming it had gone rancid.  I will NEVER be found out.

6.  Having a fabric softener sheet roll out of my pant leg.  I know that this isn’t all that worrisome but sometimes fear isn’t rational.  I always check my clothes before I put them on because I’m afraid one will roll out while I’m doing something and people will assume I have ulterior motives.  “Hey that’s supposed to be covering my ass in case of fish farts!  What’s it doing on the floor?”  I cannot have that. 

5.  Interacting with people.  I used to be so good at interacting with people.  As I’m getting older it’s become increasingly difficult.  When I go hiking I’m afraid of people talking to me, even to say ‘hello.’  I avoid eye contact at all times.  I hate going to stores anymore.  Even walking through the door of an establishment upsets me.  If it’s not an automatic opener, I panic.  I worry because I can’t judge a reasonable amount of time to wait and hold the door for someone.  I naturally assume they’re calling me names under their breath if I don’t wait and they get angry if they have to hustle to get to me in time.  It’s far easier for me to just stay home and make friends with inanimate objects.  How you doin’ stapler?

4. Stepping in dog shit.  Everywhere I go, I cannot take my eyes off of the ground.  I always presume I’m going to step in a heaping pile of shit left either by a dog or some other wild animal (or a friend of mine who has no qualms about shitting anywhere…I do mean anywhere, I’m talking nature trails, lakes, bathtubs, kitchen floors).  This one time I had inadvertently stepped into dog shit on the way inside of my friend’s brand new home.  I had no idea that this had taken place.  So were walking through her new home and I giggled and said, “It’s a great place, smells kind of funny though.”  Next thing I know she’s letting out this terrible scream and pointing to her white carpets that are now have size 11 shit covered boot prints in her new home.  Needless to say, I didn’t sleep for a week after that.  I would lay in bed and FLASH I’d fly out in a panic thinking about it.

3.  Children.  Children are just gross and dirty to me.  Not much more to say than that.

2.  Skunks.  If a skunk were to be carrying a gun and gave it to me and said “Shoot yourself or I’ll spray,” I would cease to exist.  I have such a fear of skunks.  I’m not sure if it’s the clothing I’m worried about or the entire act of the spray.  I’ve gone miles out of my way on a walk if I saw one.

1.  Hobos.  I’m not sure people even call them ‘hobos’ anymore but this is my number one fear.  I know that it’s a cruel and terrible fear to have.  I’m not saying that I don’t feel bad for them, because I do.  I think it’s horrible what they endure.  Even with that said though, I still fear for my life every time I see one.  I’m a terrible germaphobe and I hate being touched…by anyone.  I’m always so nervous that one will grab me and not let go.  I’ll scream for help, but everyone will see a hobo and not come to my aide.  Their un-manicured hands and feet scare me.  Their fashion sense.  The shopping carts filled with empty shoe boxes.  It all scares me.  My friend Cate takes it a step further and her biggest fear is that one will jump out and stab her with a hypodermic needle.  The solace I take is that there are other people out there with this problem.