It’s Table Topic Tuesday.
And the question?
WHAT’S YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING PHOBIA?
Okay. I love thrill rides—the whoosh, the rush, the tummy flopping. You can flip me upside down, sideways, backways or hurl me down the steepest hill and I’ll want to get right back on.
But, when it comes to a free fall straight down, I am neurotic. Shaky, sweaty, crippled with the irrational fear that I’m definitely going to fall to my death. Enter the Tower of Terror in Disney’s Hollywood Studios. Now, this attraction is imagineered to perfection. I love the frozen-in-time façade of the hotel, the spooky queue, the ghost-child who beckons you to join her twilight zone. But I can’t deal with the actual fall—especially now that it’s randomized for even more fun terror and you never know how many times you’ll be yo-yoed up and down the spine-chilling shaft. No thanks.
It all may stem from my aversion to elevators. But I’m forced to face that fear every day on my 35-floor flight up to my office. Once, I was stuck in one of the office elevators for 2 ½ hours—pregnant, in the corner, with 11 other people—in the “worst entrapment in building history.” Did that help cure my hang-up? Nope.
Other notable mentions:
Birds. I love birds in flight. They nudge my eyes and attention to the heavens. But, when birds are still, they completely freak me out. Is it their sharp beaks and pecking potential? The shifty eyes? No. I think it’s their spindly, scaly legs and feet and, ew, toes. Ahhhhhhhhhh!
I’m (still) scared of the dark. Silence. People not liking me.
Now that I’ve out-ed myself, my friends can do the same.
I really only have a one word explanation for this one…aliens. There…I admitted it.
I don’t bring drinks into trendy clothing stores at the mall because I’m afraid that in the midsts of the distracting strobe lights near the dressing rooms, the blaring trance music, and the store clerk wearing the Brittany Spears microphone strapped to her head, who obviously took a double dose of molly to get through her shift, I’ll put my drink down and be roofied. I’m afraid that when babies point and coo at me, they are casting an adorable baby curse on me. A baby hex, if you will. I’m afraid that dogs and bees can smell social awkwardness as well as fear, which causes more social awkwardness and then more fear. I’m afraid that my biggest regret in life will somehow involve the “Reply All” button. I’m afraid, Australia. That was the end of that sentence. I’m afraid… Australia. But, what really keeps me up nights is a fear that has been deeply rooted in my subconscious for a few years now. I’m afraid that one day it will be my turn to date Taylor Swift. I won’t have a choice. Obviously its only a matter of time, and everyone has to do it. It’s like a war draft. But still, I’m so frightened of when my time will come. Will I be brave and accept my civic duty, or will I flee to a foreign land and change my identity to some sing-songy French name? Jean-Louis LePetitte-Bottom, perhaps. Will she hunt me down across the social media, like some kind of Facebook bushwhacker, using her innate ability to deliver passive-aggressive posts to hunt my movements and stalking me like a red-lipstick wearing jungle cat through an elaborate web of photo friend tags? Will the song she writes about our relationship be short of a billboard top ten hit!? If our breakup resulted in a song that was just considered album filler, I’d be mortified. I don’t know that I could live with that.
Alrighty. Fess up. What’s your most embarrassing phobia?