I’ve never really considered myself to be a “phobic” type of person.
I’m not scared of your regular things like spiders, snakes, heights, and needles (in fact I kind of like needles), but I do have little ticks I guess. Things that won’t necessarily get my heart rate up, but will make me flinch, activate my gag reflex, or start graphically picturing my imminent demise. The problem with writing an article like this is that once I started trying to think of things that triggered this response, I found it hard to stop. But I’ve narrowed it down to what I would call…my top 6 irrational ticks.
1. Things Touching My Eye
I class this as irrational purely because I’ll liberally apply eyeliner and mascara on a daily basis and not worry a bit, but put anything else anywhere near my eye and I’ll lose my shit. This might be because of my bug eyes (bigger target), or it might be that time I was in the Hypermarket and I pointed a loaded staple gun at my eye (not realising of course it was loaded). But all it really means is that I’ve been reduced to tears in front of my optometrist during the “puff test” and I once got a grade bumped up because I had something in my eye I couldn’t get out and it was making me a little emotional.
Birds are claw footed creep monsters that fly at your face and don’t have any arms. They have one giant tooth for a mouth and their eyes are on opposite sides of their head. They can imitate humans and have more intelligence than some small children. They can tell when it’s going to rain and they know which way is north.
Birds will inherit the earth.
Also, a seagull stole my hotdog at Seaworld once.
Seagulls are the worst
3. My Hair Catching On Fire
Have you ever seen how quickly someone’s entire head goes up in flames when it brushes a candle? If I’ve got a birthday cake you best believe I’m tying my hair back before going anywhere near that bad boy.
And it’s not just about having flames in close proximity to my face (though of course that’s not ideal) but I’m one of those girls who has invested so much of their identity in their hair. It’s shallow to say so but losing my hair would do so much damage to my already admittedly fragile self esteem. My hair is pretty agreeable and does what I want it to, so in a life of uncertainty it’s nice to have control over something.
Even if it is silly and shallow.
4. Used Band Aids
Nothing brings on my nausea faster than seeing an owner-less band aid. By extension of this I’m also not a fan of public pools, because in such places the chances of finding an owner-less band aid increase exponentially. I’d honestly rather find a used pad than a used band aid – and you know why? The sticky side of a pad is on the bottom so there’s no way the gross unhygienic side can get stuck to me, whereas the sticky side of the band aid is RIGHT NEXT to the gross bit that’s touched whatever disgusting sore you have.
Also, I’m a girl, I’ve been looking at bloody pads on the regular for the last 10+ years. I know where that’s been. I have no idea where that band aid has been.
(Also, please stop leaving your pads around, it’s really fucking disgusting. Sanitary bins are seriously everywhere so there’s really no excuse. Wrap it up in toilet paper and dispose of it responsibly, PLEASE).
5. Death by Ceiling Fan
I’ve been told so many times that this is impossible based on the laws of physics, but that doesn’t change the fact that when that fan picks up so much speed the whole thing starts rocking back and forth, I start to see my whole life flash before my eyes. That fan is going to fall on me, but continue spinning the whole way down so that when it hits me, my face is sliced up into a million ribbon-y pieces and there will be blood splatter worthy of a Tarantino film.
I’d rather be sweaty and uncomfortable than allow the fan to reach such speeds while I’m in the room.
6. Death by Faulty Lift
This is exclusive to those really old and rickety lifts that move at a snail’s pace, because I’m quite sure they haven’t been tended to by a licenced professional in years. Exclusively found in old hotels, European apartment blocks and budget shopping centres the lifts are only large enough to fit yourself and one other person. They’re notoriously unreliable, so much so that if they did break down, no one would bother complaining to management about it HENCE trapped in there until you die.
And this totally happened in China really recently so it’s not irrational at all.
If you like my stuff, sign up for the email newsletter to receive monthly rundowns of everything I’ve posted, some random things I like or think are important, plus exclusive peeks at trashed content and works in progress.
From phobia to Crazy Places…how I learnt to trust mine
And the things I didn’t realise I’d miss when I moved across the world…
And did you know that Ladies Don’t Send Nudes?