I’m a scaredy-cat. Always have been and probably always will be. I’m afraid of the normal things – drowning, heights, and flesh-eating fish. But I’m also afraid of the not-so-normal things – Shamu, explosive diarrhea, and flesh-eating fish.
It’s not like I’m afraid to die – I’m just afraid of HOW and if it’ll hurt. There are obviously a lot of ways to die (Hello, 1,000 Ways To Die), and I’d like to avoid the truly heinous ones like being decapitated by a rollercoaster. That seriously happened to somebody.
But there are three things that top the list:
1) The Ocean
Really, any large body of water freaks me out. I can handle a river if my butt is secured on a tube and it’s flowing at a significant rate, but the idea of that much water surrounding me is just too much to handle. And don’t even bother asking me to swim if I can’t touch the bottom or see my feet. Do you know what kind of things lurk at the bottoms of lakes and oceans? I suggest a weekend marathon of “River Monsters” if the details are fuzzy. There are fish that will literally drill a hole in your body and EAT YOUR INSIDES. There are catfish big enough to swallow an adult man. And let’s not even discuss sharks because I’m sure it’s obvious that I’m not on good terms with Jaws, mmmkay? And let me just point out that Shamu is a KILLER whale. They didn’t get that name by accident. Someone wasn’t just rowing by in their canoe and said, “Awww, look at that Orca. How friendly. You know what? I’m going to call you a killer whale because you’re just so darn cute and sweet.” NO. They call them that because they will tear the flesh from your bones, people. And don’t be fooled by a dolphin’s seemingly innocent grin. That’s 300 pounds of pure muscle, and he knows what humans have done to his cousins in Japan. He saw “The Cove.” He knows.
I couldn’t survive prison. I just couldn’t. Thus, I live in a perpetual state of fear at the thought of being wrongly convicted of a crime I didn’t commit and then getting sent to The Big House. One, I don’t look particularly awesome in neon orange. Two, I’m not very strong and can’t win a street (cell) fight. Three, I enjoy reality television way too much to be deprived in that manner. Though, I think I would enjoy solitary confinement given unlimited access to books.
3) Body odor
I don’t have a particularly good sense of smell, so this freaks me out. I get a panic attack at the thought of having BO, bad breath, pit stains, or any other hygiene related crisis. Obviously, I’m sure I’ve had the stank breath at one point or another, but that doesn’t deter the anxiety I get thinking about it. Be a friend, and let me know if I smell socially unacceptable at any point.
We’re almost done with the countdown! Come back next time to read about my two favorite memories!