Oh, like you don't have irrational fears.

Well it happened. Just as I had assured you it would in the blog entry entitled 'The Meatball'; someone asked me if the mole on my cleavage was spilled chocolate. I could barely keep it together long enough to insist she read my blog only to then immediately succumb to the deadly combination of hilarity and embarrassment.

To the kind lady who nearly wiped away the suspect ball of chocolate – thank you for the laugh and introduction to my latest post.

Although, with that said, I have no intention of writing in depth about my two unsightly moles today. I feel their 15 minutes of fame has run out, which is why I’ve decided to book their “laser eviction” for July 9^th.

Same price; no scar. In your face, Dermatologist! HA!

Also the friendly staff promised me, because I had to ask, that the wait time is usually about five minutes. Again to the Dermatologist – HA-HA! 

I win. 

 

While anything involving a laser usually coincides with awesomeness, I have to admit that the appointment sounds a bit terrifying. On their website the procedure was described as “painless” but then after a bit more reading there was mention of a “rubber band snapping sensation”. Why on earth would they describe it as painless only to later mention the scary truth? Did they think that I wouldn’t read on? Call me crazy but last I checked being snapped by a rubber band sucks immensely. Hence my life-long phobia of rubber bands, particularly regarding those that are pointed at me.

I wondered if there was a name for such a thing, so I googled it. Turns out I suffer from ‘astihophobia’. Sounds serious, I know.


I’m also terrified of dead bugs and dead fish. The bug thing isn’t too much of a burden because, instead of the killing option, I trap them in a plastic cup to be released into the backyard. The fish thing is less than ideal because I have a huge aquarium and sometimes I spot, with terror, a dead fish. It’s even worse when said fish is stuck to the filter (*shudder*).  I then have to avoid the living room until Mike gets rid of it.


At least within the last couple of years he’s taking me a bit more seriously and now actually deals with the situation. For the longest time he would declare it as the “circle of life” and leave the disgusting, slimy thing in the tank for the other fish to dispose of….always starting with the eyes (do you now see why I’m so petrified?).


I think “circle of life” actually translated to “I’m super-lazy and also an A-hole for not properly acknowledging the gravity of your phobia”.

It’s called ‘ichthyophobia’, by the way. It’s very serious and I suffer from it. The only thing worse than my random, irrational fears, would be to not have such impressively grave sounding diagnoses to accompany them. A fear of dead fish sounds ridiculous but to say that I am a victim of ichthyophobia somehow validates my anguish.

So thank you for that, Wikipedia.