Things that scare me...

So I have some odd fascinations that cause people to look at me sideways. For instance, I like to find the seedy underbelly of whatever town I’m visiting. I’m riveted by mafia-like crime. If someone dies a violent death, I want all of the details. I read the police blotter of local papers and have since I was little. When I ran long-distance, I was the one stopping to look at and examine road kill. This is a horrid side of me and I need immediate help, I know. I was probably dropped on my head as a child.

I have an unnaturally strong stomach. I started out in college as pre-med (who didn’t?) and got so far as to actually dissect a cadaver, so you wouldn’t think much would bother me.

(Sidebar: It’s not advisable to mention that you know how to dismember a body on a first date. The check will appear very quickly and you won’t get to look at the dessert menu. See, I don’t think of that knowledge as “strange” or “weird”, but more “handy” and perhaps “useful if hungry and on a deserted island.” That’s just me, though.)

But I do have a list of things that freak me out that the average person wouldn’t even blink at:

1) I don’t like people to touch my food.
2) I hate cabbage, either growing or on my plate. The plant itself inspires violent feelings.
3) I’m scared of birds.
4) I’m also scared of schools of fish.
5) I have an unnatural fear of something getting lodged in my navel.
6) Empty wrappers, for instance in a box of See’s Candies, cause me terrible anxiety. I can’t take a chocolate until I’ve gathered up all of the wrappers and thrown them out.
7) I’m scared of white vans. The ones that drive, not the shoes.

I’m sure others share #1 and #3…but I’d admit to the rest as being odd. Anyways, today, I added another irrational fear to the list.

I was working in the studio by myself and in between clients a man walked in, wanting information about Pilates. I had just started giving him my usual spiel when I caught sight of his nose…and the long hairs growing out of it. We’re talking LONG. Like, he might have had to employ a hair dryer and some styling products to get that hair to behave the way it was. It was curly, silky looking and very happy to be out in the world. As he talked, it bounced enthusiastically against his upper lip and I couldn’t hear a world he was saying for fear that the hair would wind its way over to me and perhaps pull me into his nose, where I would be forever lost. It was fascinating, and also made me want to throw up a little bit. Because in what land, what culture, is it ok to shave your entire face yet let hairs grow to that extent OUT OF YOUR NOSE? Things, mucous-y things, come out of that. With the amount of hair that was projecting forth from his nostrils, who knows what else was living up there? Had a goat poked its head out, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

My mind was spiraling, lost in the jungle of his nasal passages when I realized that he had stopped talking and was looking at me expectantly, clearly having asked me a question that required a response.

“Um…I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
“I asked if you…”
And again, the hairs were wagging so violently at me that I couldn’t focus on anything else. Truly, I’ve never been so distracted in my life. In my head all I could hear was “DOESN’T HE KNOW THAT HE HAS A FULL HEAD OF HAIR COMING OUT OF THE CENTER OF HIS FACE?”

Somehow, I got through the rest of the conversation and sent him packing as my next client came into the studio for her session. He held the door open for her as she entered and she did a swift double take as he left, dragging his nose hairs behind him.

“Are you serious?” she said, eyes wide.
“I know, right? I’ve never seen anything like that. I’m speechless.”
“Has he ever thought to trim them?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think to ask, I was too worried that I might get tangled up if I got any closer. It’s like a choking hazard.”
“Wow. Can you imagine kissing that? You wouldn’t need to floss later!”

Which is when I gagged, and then thought to myself “I’m officially afraid of excess nose hair.”

And again, yes, I know I’m shallow.