When I was a little girl, I don’t think I really noticed my body other than when I hurt it by flying over my new 10-speed’s handle bars not realizing that I didn’t have to overkill the breaks and in turn, ripped myself to shreds. I still have scars, y’all.
Now, when I got a bit older and was in school, say 3rdish grade, I began to realize that our bodies were really weird and made a lot of weird ass sounds. For example, there was this boy that sat next to me in nearly every class I had at my Catholic school and I think the poor kids lived on damn beans, broccoli, and cabbage because that kid ripped them constantly. And every damn time, even after he had already farted 6 times in the last 7 seconds, I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off. Farting is funny, I don’t care who the heck you are.
In addition to going to my Catholic school, I went to the Catholic church it was attached to. Now, I’m kind of stuck on gas so I’ll go on. Every Sunday, weird ass Catholics, I love y’all I really do but some of y’all are weird . . . every stinking family, just about, would sit in their “self-assigned” pew and there was little deviation. If a newbie came in and sat in your “assigned” location, you better look out because you will be getting a big ass Catholic hex put on you, by God!
Well, because of these “self-assigned” seats, we inevitably sat behind the gassiest old lady Jenkins on the planet every single Sunday. She too ate beans,etc. for a living and in addition, must have had on some girdle or hardware or something on her person becasue when she moved, she sqeaked. Like a little mouse, not kidding. I would be delighted when I heard the lady squeak because I know I had never produced such a sound and was fasinated at how she was managing this.
She also had 3 boobs. Yes, 3. I know this because of the very few times she turned around, I think her hardware was prison-like, therefore limiting her range of movement, I was at that right at the boobs height and whammo, 1-2-3. What the?
After church that day, I asked my mom how come some ladies ended up with three boobs and not just two. Exasperated by yet another bodily question, she explained that her bra was probably ill fitting and it was forming what appeared to be an additional boob but was in fact not. What the? I would later learn that this is a true phenomenon when my freshman English teacher demonstrated the same features only her third boob was a helluva lot bigger than the other two. I often joked with my friends that the other two probably had size issues and envied boob number 3. Weird!
Moving on . . .
I discovered the irritating sound of snoring when we would go on vacation with my family and my dad would go to town. I’d find myself in the bathroom sleeping in the tub with the door closed and soon, I’d find my two sisters crammed in there with me. I decided snoring was just damn annoying and that was that. When asked why I slept in the tub, I announced, “Well, I think dad probably knows since he has some sort of Sasquatch nasal thing going on.” To which both of my sisters nodded in agreement. “Mm hmm, tell it sister.”
I became the victim of another Sasquatch nasal demon for 16 years and in addition, was presented with marathon farting, burping, sniffing, hocking up loogies, and such incredible twitching at night during sleep, I’d often get smacked in the face, although I wonder about that last one. Most people have restless leg syndrome but the lucky few wives who end up marrying a guy with restless entire person syndrome, aren’t so lucky.
During this 16 year torture, I also discovered what air exposure can do to a little boys pee pee, when I found myself covered in urine and my sweet son was oblivious as I tried not go gag and spit what found its way into my mouth.
I was also dumbfounded by that first black as tar and stinky as hell poop. God help us all with that one y’all!
One of the weirdest of all the bodily oddities has got to be my sweet husband who randomly yells out words, or repeats what he hears on television, or repeats what someone else says, or just reads something randomly out loud that he sees in his visual field. It is not uncommon to hear such words as “nectar” or “shamalama” or “G” out of freaking nowhere. These are code to my daughter who will respond in respective order “nectar” “ding-dong” “monkey.”
He’s got my daughter doing the same thing. Great and wonderful, there’s two of them now.
My son inherited the unfortunate nasal issue I spoke of earlier and it is not uncommon to hear him snorting that crap back up into the recesses of his nasal cavity and it is so nauseating!
I, on the other hand, have no sounds or weirdness what so ever and . . .
Lol, um, yes, yes I do actually, but I’ll keep it to myself, well, I’ll share one.
About 100 years ago, I found myself living in Grand Junction, Colorado, God’s country and I was the happiest I had ever been. I met some of the neatest people out there and found myself in the Arches National Park in Utah for some rock climbing. Well, rock climbing for these folks was without any equipment. They liked living on the edge and were poor so that was that. Now, I’m was quite athletic back then and thought, “Eh, piece of cake.” Ha!
I started out really good and everyone was impressed so I pressed on but eventually, my luck ran out and I fell from pretty far up and injured my left knee pretty bad. Because I thought I was some John Wayne type chick, I took Advil and iced it a bit and trekked on.
A few months later, back at Arches, I pushed my luck again, and ended up injuring my other knee. John Wayning it again, I trekked on.
Now, 100 years later, my knees are the crunchiest couple of joints you have ever done heard. When I climb steps or climb my step stool in the clinic to put up the therapy swing, they just shout out how screwed up they are and I often have my OT kids or their parents cringing and exclaim, “OMG, is that your knees?” Yes, yes it is, hello knee replacements someday. Sigh.
Our bodies are both fascinating and freaking weird but the fact of the matter is, they are our bodies given to us by God and we should take care of them and not beat them the hell up like I have on my knees. Oh well, I’ll pay for it in another 10-15 years more than likely.