This post is inspired by a dream that I had last night. I awoke with the post writing itself in my head. You see, I dreamed that I was holding a snake. Anyone who interprets dreams care to take a stab at what that means in the subconscious mind? Like why does my subconscious mind hate me? Here are ten things that freak me out:
I am not talking about boa constrictors that can squeeze you to death or a super poisonous rattlesnake that can kill you with one strike. I am talking about the green snakes that your grandpa used to try to force you to hold, all in the name of fun. What was wrong with Grandpa? How did he know for sure that snake wouldn’t bite me? Did they have a conversation that ended in a pinky swear? Because last time I checked SNAKES DON’T HAVE PINKIES!
They have eight legs and eyes all over their head. A spider is prepared to chase you in any direction. They have large web traps to catch anything that dares stroll past. I have walked into these webs and let me tell you, I become a super ninja with amazing moves. All while screaming like a little girl and running as though on fire.
3. Bathing Suits
Have you ever tried on suits post childbirth? Then you know. The suit looks cute on the hanger. Take it off that hanger though and it transforms into something that has the power to shatter self-esteem, make you mad enough to fight and reduce you to tears. You wiggle your way into the suite and open your eyes. It is now a huge neon sign pointing at all of your flaws. HEY EVERYONE! LOOK RIGHT HERE! LOOK HOW BIG MY BUTT LOOKS! LOOK AT MY BACKFAT RIGHT HERE! You leave the experience needing therapy.
I am not claustrophobic but elevators have so many strikes against them. You are crammed into a box with people you don’t know. You are suspended by cables that you hope have been maintained. People are sneezing and coughing. I watch Criminal Minds so I am pretty sure at least one person in there is a serial killer waiting to see what floor I get off on. No thanks. I’ll just take the 14 flights of stairs.
Don’t laugh. It sends chills down my spine. I love shoes. Zappos ships right to my door, but in order to see my new pair of shoes I have to face the cardboard box. Why not wait until my hubby gets home and let him open the box? Well that is just a ridiculous. How am I going to hide the shoes in my closet if I wait for HIM to open the box? Oops.. I just divulged a woman secret. Sorry ladies.
Having four kids means this is something that I have to deal often. Little kids pick boogers. A lot. Then they stick them everywhere. If I see a booger on my kid’s face, I have to get a good removal plan. A booger must never touch MY skin.
7. Play Doh
There is no doubt in my mind that Play Doh was invented by a MAN. No woman would ever create such a vile product for INSIDE play. You will find bits and pieces for weeks to come. Play Doh is an OCD mother’s worst nightmare. Well, except for Magic Sand but as far as my kids know, that stuff is illegal in 22 states, one of which is this one. Not a word.
Look I know I am going to draw fire here. My very best friend has cats who are like her babies. I do love her cats. It is kind of like before you had kids, you weren’t crazy about kids, but you loved your girlfriends kids. They got a pass. What reason could I possibly have to not like these adorable furballs? They are intelligent, sneaky and I am pretty sure can take you in your sleep. They hide in your house and you will never find them if they don’t want to be found. Dogs never hide. And let’s remember, your grandma told you that they steal babies breath while they sleep. Your grandma wasn’t known to be a liar, was she? It must be true.
We should never have to see the contents of one’s stomach. I am not in the medical profession for a reason. If it is up to me to help you with your broken, dangling limb, you are in big trouble. With four kids, you are going to have your fair share of vomit. I even have one kid who vomits for no apparent reason. You know that look. You can see it in their eyes except there is never enough time to react. It flies at you in slow motion, yet you can’t make your feet move. He got you. There is vomit ON YOUR SKIN. What do you do? Well if you are me you stand there and scream. Over and over until your husband comes running to see if you are being stabbed by an intruder. He wipes the tiny spec that actually landed on you away. You say dramatic, I say traumatized.
10. Loss of social media/blog
This one makes my blood go cold. Just this week my laptop crashed and later my website. I could not access it. I emailed everyone I could think of and waited. About every three-minute I would type www.bellonheels.com. Nothing. This went on for 7 gut wrenching hours before it was restored.
Am I addicted to the internet and social media? Guilty as charged. I’m convinced that I am supposed to somehow get paid for doing a blog, or maybe manage social media for some large company. I am also meant to have a reality show and a shoe line but that is a whole other blog post.
So tell me, what freaks you out?