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Monday, May 08, 2006


Grosser Than Gross, or How I know my Subconscious Doesn't Like Me

Repulsion is subjective. As unique as the varying objects, visions, and smells that send us shrieking, retching and cowering in a corner fighting to keep our cookies down, are the variances from human to human. What is utterly vile and repellant to one person can be totally benign to another.

The range of revolting offenders is fascinating, as are the neuroses that likely lie behind the gag reflexes deeply rooted in the subconscious of the afflicted. There are a few things, that when conjured in my mind, create an overpowering revulsion and nausea so strong, I become desperate to banish the image from my mind for all of eternity. Except that I have one of those brains afflicted with oppositional defiant disorder. Stupid, agonizing, torturous, ODD brain. I desperately try to banish these disturbing visions from my mind, and they pop up repeatedly, rendering me weak and helpless and yearning for aliens to suck out my thoughts and memories and save me from the torture my subconscious berates and mocks me with. I have an evil subconscious.

There are a few things on my list. Terra Cotta. I can not touch terra cotta without cringing. When I touch terra cotta, I can’t help but think about how terra cotta would feel if I CHEWED it. How the crunch of terra cotta would feel on my teeth. I. CAN’T TOUCH TERRA COTTA. Chalk incites a similar response.

Another one is the image I conjured up when friend told me about her uterine fibroids. I have not problem with the thought of fibroids all by themselves. Things started careening out of control when my friend said to me “They’re really not that big of a deal, but someone once told me that they grow hair and teeth”. HAIR AND TEETH IN YOUR UTERUS. I think that’s enough said. Those substances should only be in that place when there is an actual baby in there. I am trembling at the very thought right this very moment.

I once had a dream that bugs crawled out of my pores. That was about ten years ago, and the image still disturbs me.

There is the story about a person biting into a chicken tender, causing a big fat tumor to explode in their mouth. I have yet to move beyond that image.

I discovered another one yesterday while composing some geranium planters in the backyard with my sister Betsy. ROOT NODULES. I was finishing off a planter with asparagus fern, and when I removed the plastic container to place it in the pot, the mass of thick white roots were exposed, along with these pale, hairy pustules. I paused quizzically and took a closer look and I thought I saw one MOVE. Fat, juicy, hairy, pale alien sacks. They looked like some kind of insect pods, and I was certain they were incubating fat, pale wormy, writhing, fast-moving critters that were about to leap from the roots onto my face and start sucking blood. But the pale juicy, likely worm-infested Root nodules weren’t bad enough. It was then that I noticed what had actually made the movement I saw. The dreaded millipede. I shrieked the most terrorized, high pitched shriek, and flung the entire plant, millipede, pustules and all, across the backyard with a startling velocity. I am sure that I scared the bejeezus out of Betsy.

I was nauseated for hours. And my uncooperative brain, with a sick and twisted sense of humor, conjured up the image repeatedly throughout the evening. I hate my brain.

I searched and searched for a photograph of these asparagus fern root nodules, and have so far been unable to find a photograph that does the root nodule atrocities justice.

I am cringing right this very moment of the mere thought.

I wonder if a hypno-therapist could clean some of this disgusting junk out of my brain.

Now that I have cursed you all with visions of the most disgusting things imaginable, please take advantage of the comments section to return the favor with a few of your own.

And with that, I will leave you with a picture of the closest thing I could find. Except my plant had throbbing paler, juicier nodules. With hair.


Blogger Muriel said...

I'm with you on the terra-cotta! I also don't like cotton-balls - something about them feels weird on my fingers. Maybe its my dry fingers.

My oldest brother - we can say "bologna" to him and he'll immediately run to a bathroom to puke!

Ahhh, the things our mind does to us!

9:13 AM  
Blogger DDM said...

Oh I'm SO afflicted by the same kind of things.....can't stand the thought of biting a towel. Every time my son does it fresh out of the bath, I gag. The *scritchiness* of it just kills me. I also hate feet.
My son, however, is The Master Gagger. He has sensory issues, so we've attributed it to that. But his list is extensive. We haven't eaten spaghetti in 4 years. He can see someone in a restaurant 15 tables away, with a plate of spaghetti and gag until he pukes. He has stretched that into anything stringy. Ribbon string on balloons are fine, but not if they're curled. Shredded cheese? *HORK* Shredded lettuce? GAG. It's exhausting running interference everywhere we go!!! He is getting better, but it's still there.

11:10 AM  
Blogger Jerri Ann said...

you should have tagged that one "do not read while you eat lunch", geez

that teeth and hair thing got me and I should have quit reading right then.......

I know of nothing that compares to having teeth and hair on a lump in my uterus..oh wait, I don't have a uterus..mayabe that's how I'll get past this one, but damn that was horrible

12:05 PM  
Blogger Jozet said...


Terra cotta...bbbrrrrrrrrr...yes, it's like a chalk board just waiting to be touched the wrong way.

I also hate the sound of ripping cardboard, and rubber bands freak me out. I keep thinking the same as you with the terra cotta: what if I chewed one. EeeeeEEEEEeeEEEEE!!!!!!!

1:43 PM  
Blogger mothergoosemouse said...

It's the sad and scary stuff that I can't banish from my mind. Like when I had to watch the shaken baby syndrom video before being discharged from the hospital after CJ was born. I put it off until the very last moment - literally, CJ and I were both dressed and everything was packed and all I had to do before I could leave was watch that damn video - because I knew that the images would be burned onto my brain.

That's just one example. It's why I can't bear to read stories about children who have died or been abused. Same goes for anything regarding 9/11. Those images are burned onto my brain too. And like you, my stupid brain just keeps bringing them back up when I least expect it, just to upset me all over again.

Dude, I'm a real downer, aren't I? Maybe I need to go chew on some terra cotta and a root nodule or two...

10:48 AM  
Anonymous helene said...

Wow - i'd hate to see your dream :)

BTW: I can't stand chalk either bktpi

5:49 PM  
Blogger Dawn said...

I just shivered.

6:06 PM  

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