Skip to main content

Childhood Fears



I was a nervous kind of kid growing up. There was a lady who lived across the street who didn't have a right arm from the elbow down. Nobody would give me a straight answer as to where the rest of her arm was RIGHT NOW and what the hell happened to it. Was she born that way? Got caught up in a major biker fight? An army of rabid flesh eating armadillos got her? WHAT?! To make matters worse she was the kind of woman who shellacked on the makeup. She looked like she couldn't stand next to a 60 watt light bulb without her face melting off. It was extremely creepy (bless her heart).

I used to take the fastest shits in town back then because I would worry that her hand would find it's way into MY toilet and goose me. Which would obviously be a very bad thing. I also would climb into bed and then meticulously pat down the sheets all around me in case her arm found it's way into my room and began commando crawling under my sheets to "get me". Fortunately we eventually moved away without me ever being attacked or goosed by the errant arm. But it still managed to scar me.

As if THAT wasn't ENOUGH for me to worry about, one of my biggest fears growing up was that my dad would pull his hanky (you know the one...he uses it every day but it only gets washed once a quarter whether it needs it or not) out of his pocket and try to wipe something off of my face. I'd start running in slow motion screaming, "NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!"

But the worst was when Mom would pull a very used looking Kleenex out of her bag and lick it. With a long, super gross wet swipe of the tongue. You know, to get it REALLY moist to wipe off whatever offending morsels we had on our faces. She'd then start barking at us to approach her. My brother would lock eyes with me and I could tell we were thinking the same thing, "Fuck it, Dude. Let's make a break for it. You know she can't catch us if we split up and run..." But, crafty chick that she was, she would use her Jedi mind tricks and we'd sullenly go stand next to her, waiting to be hosed off with a snotty, spitty used tissue.

It's really no wonder why I am a weird adult.



Need something wiped off of YOUR face? Humor-Blogs will do it with a CLEAN tissue.
Labels:

Comments

kcar said…
Okay Bex - this explains a lot about you. :) I love that you are a good southern woman and followed with a "bless her heart". I always use that when talking about my mother... "she drives me fucking nuts, bless her heart". I know Karma still frowns on me, but at least it makes me feel like I am less of a bitch than I really am.
10:10 PM
Bee said…
My childhood fear: Tidal waves drowning me while I slept.

Before I went to bed I'd check all the windows to make sure they were locked (because they'd prevent water coming in). Then I'd look outside and make sure there weren't any waves in our vicinity.

Nearest body of water: about 200miles.
10:14 PM
Bex said…
Kcar - waz up, Sista? Yep, against ALL odds I am the kind of woman who will throw a "bless her heart" right before I trash her. Oh, and by the way, you don't KNOW how unbitchy you are! You just have a mother. That's all.

Bee - Huh. That IS weird. What is it about being a kid? You feel immortal and do things that could kill you in an instant but then you are irrationally afraid of the shadow the dust bunny leaves on your bedroom wall.
9:42 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

And The Winner Is...

I have some very exciting news. For the first time ever the Blog of Bex is giving out an award . Yes, I know. I can feel my heart pounding, too. I will call it the Bite My Ass Award (BMAA) and I'm sure it will be coveted. Now you might be wondering just who will be the lucky recipient. Could it be Diesel, the mastermind of Humor-Blogs and Mattress Police , who - for reasons unknown to me - revamped the scoring system and and reset my score to zero? Nope. This action has actually mysteriously seemed to work in my favor. I'm sure it's temporary. ANYWAY, on to the big news. I hereby give my BMAA to this guy: Handsome little fucker, isn't he? His name is James Jackson, IV and his friends call him Jay. I like to call him Fucktard because I believe that your name should say something about the kind of guy you are. And he's a total fucktard. What, you may wonder, did he do to generate such ire from me? Well I'm so glad you asked. He owns two boutiques in suburban At...
23 comments
Read more

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke...
23 comments
Read more

Protesting at Funerals: A Look at the Deranged and Demented

I normally like to write about funny things. (At least they are things that I find funny.) They are usually attempts to be funny in a ha-ha kind of way, although sometimes I will throw in something that's funny in a weird way, just to shake things up. But what I want to write about now isn't funny at all. It is shocking and horrific. There was a girl from my home town who was murdered at Auburn University last week. Her name was Lauren Burk and she was 18. She went to our local high school and although I didn't know her many of my friends children did. She's being buried today. Her family is, naturally, heartbroken. It was a random, tragic and violent attack. That's really bad enough. My husband drove by the funeral home yesterday and noticed that there was a small army of Harley Davidson riders holding American flags. They appeared to be guarding the memorial service. It turns out that they were asked to be there to protect the family because a group called the We...
17 comments
Read more