Grammy over at Gram-Cracker blog has bared her soul and shared some of her “issues” with us and asked us to “reciprocate”. I can’t let my friend Grammy down! So here’s my list, which isn’t all inclusive by any means. I also added WHY I am a bit
1. Like Grammy, I have poop issues. No, I CAN poop…well, sometimes I’m constipated, but that’s not the problem. Okay constipation CAN be a problem, but that’s not THIS particular problem. MY problem, or issue, whichever you prefer, is I DON’T like to TALK about poop or pooping. I don’t like to call poop “shit” and I absolutely do NOT like to poop in public places. But if I MUST, I will hover over the toilet, with my thighs cramping like a mother, flushing the damn toilet over and over and over in order to muffled any unexpected sounds as I go...um...number two.
I have NO clue where my poop-talk-go-number-two-in-public-places phobia comes from. I have given it a lot of thought, too. And other than being tied to a chair in a Woolworth’s restroom as a kid and having to listen to someone poop, which I don’t recall having happened, unless I totally suppressed the experience, I really don’t know WHY I dislike talking about poop or pooping or doing THAT in a public restroom!
Okay, enough of THAT talk. If I ever get hypnotized, I’ll be sure to find out where that damn phobia comes from and let you know.
2. My bra, underwear and socks MUST all be the SAME color and preferably these must coordinate with a color of clothing that I’m wearing for the day. Normally, it’s my shirt, because I’m not one of those Hollywood sluts who wears a BLACK bra with a WHITE top. I have CLASS, y’all.
This affinity is because I was flat as a board most of my life (the boobie fairy passed right over me) and I wasn’t able to wear pretty bras—and they didn’t make “training” bras with lace, either, and hell, THOSE were TOO big for me anyway. So, after I “bought” a pair of boobs in 1999, I started matching my bras and bottoms—which was something I had ALWAYS wanted to do, so now I’m quite happy!
3. I can NOT leave dirty dishes in the sink. I have a dishwasher, but I don’t like to unload it, but I will load if it’s needed. However, if it’s filled with CLEAN dishes and there are a few dirty dishes in the sink, I will hand wash, dry and put them away. The only way I won’t do this is if I’m SO exhausted that I’m ready to pass out.
The reason for THIS issue is because growing up my bio-mother was a horrible housekeeper. She left dirty dishes EVERYWHERE! And when I say everywhere, I DO mean everywhere…in the living room, in her bedroom, on the floor. It was DISGUSTING. There was also a time when I went into the kitchen and the sink was FILLED with dirty dishes and the small counter space that we did have was completely over-run with dirty dishes, as well. I couldn’t take it, so I broke down and washed them. After I got them done, I began wiping down the counter and sink with a steaming hot, soapy dish cloth and when I got behind the faucet, guess what I found?
I GAGGED! And was scarred for life.
Too bad I’m not able to suppress THAT memory!
Needless to say, there will be NO maggots in MY house, which means NO dirty dishes in the sink either.
I don’t have a very good self body image. This is due to my bio-mother’s constant flip-flopping about my appearance. One day I was pretty, the next, uglier than a horned toad. She told me once, after I had my hair cut short, that I looked like a “Butch”, and even though I wasn’t sure at the time what a “Butch” was, her tone told me it was NOT good.
She picked on my choice of clothes, make-up, hair styles...you name it, she found something negative to say. She told me all the time that I looked anorexic. I was skinny; I still am. But I can’t help it; it’s in my genes. I eat, but I don’t gain weight. As a teenager, I didn’t realize my mother was jealous of me. All I knew back then was that my own mother thought I was less-than and in my naive mind I thought if I was PERFECT, she’d love me.
Only after years of therapy did I realize that perfection could never be achieved. Those years of berating myself for not measuring up left numerous holes and scars which needed to be tended.
I try to this day to see myself like other people see me, but it’s difficult. I pick at everything. I remind myself that it’s a slow process and I’m a work in progress, so I do go easy on myself. It took years of programming to make me this way, so it’s going to take some time to UN-program me.
5. I’m a hairspray fanatic. My favorite hairspray, Back to Basics, has been discontinued and I’ve been having a heck of a time finding a new hairspray that I LIKE. One of the problems is hairspray that says Super Hold really isn’t Super Hold, to MY definition—it needs super glue in its ingredients (not really super glue, but you get the idea).
Over the last couple of months, I’ve spent way over my allotment for hairspray trying to find the PERFECT one. I’ve tossed FULL cans in the trash because I HATE them. Stores aren’t real happy if you TEST their products in their aisles. They get all testy and say stuff to you and if you lack a filter on your mouth, like me, you get testy right back and you don’t want to be banned from the store. So, you buy the hairspray you THINK might work and if you HATE it you’re basically STUCK with the shit (yes, I can use shit when it’s not a bodily function) unless you want to make the trip back to the damn store and return it. Yep, you can go home and spray that shit all over the damn place, not like it, then return it. Go figure.
Why am I a hairspray fanatic? Because I like BIG ASS HAIR all damn day long.
6. I’m a clean-car-freak. I like to have my vehicle clean and shiny on the outside, but that isn’t always feasible living in Pennsylvania. However, I DO have control over the cleanliness of the inside of my vehicle. Therefore I carry baby wipes in my vehicle, not so my passengers or I can wipe our hands. Oh NO! The wipes are so I can clean off my dashboard, doors, steering wheel and console when I’m sitting at a red light or at a drive-thru. I also have Windex and paper towels so I can clean the inside of my windows when the idea strikes my fancy or when I can’t stand a smudge.
This crazie is due to that perfection thing I told you about earlier. It spilled over into other areas of my life. I was a house-cleaning-fanatic at one point too, but over-came that.
Don’t misunderstand, my house IS clean, no maggots or filth, although you’ll find some dust, so don’t be wearing any white gloves. Although I can handle dust. I had to get control of my control issues because it was to the point where they were controlling me and I wasn't enjoying my life! All I was doing was cleaning and I even had a freaken cleaning lady!
Now I ENJOY my life...with some dust bunnies.
Okay, there you have it. Six crazies about me (I don’t know why six).
What are some
I KNOW you have some! We ALL do!
Don't be shy, there’s NO judgment here!
At least I hope not—I’m crazier than most, so there won’t be any judgment from ME!