May 3rd, 2011
These give my soul heart attacks and make babies cry more than they already do.
If you know me at all, you’re well aware that my fears are legend and legion. I’m scared of planes, spiders, medicine, cancer, blood, needles, doctors, public speaking, alopecia, and those swim socks that make your feet look like hands. In an attempt to grow up a little, I’ve tried very hard to face many of my fears and over the past three years forced myself to fly to New York three times, read my writing in front of people, and let spiders live occasionally instead of shooting them in the face.
Driving me on this path of self actualization is that I don’t want my daughters to be afraid of everyday, normal things, or of extraordinary things. Fear is a mofo. I don’t want its wily fingers to wind around their brains the way it did mine. They deserve better. And so do I.
But even given all that, the one act I would not, could not do, EVER, is visit a chiropractor. No way, no how. Chiropractors crack your bones, twist your neck like Steven Seagal on acid steroids, and paralyze you maybe. No, no, NO. The hell no. Forget it, I’m serious. Facing my deathly fear of chiropractors was NOT AN OPTION. Chiropractic care? One phobia I would let lie. My mind? Closed on that one. I would rather get on an airplane without Xanax.
Yeah I know. I’d heard all the stories. Sinus troubles erased, persistent sports injuries cured, vision improved. I didn’t care. I’ve seen Chuck Norris movies. I watched that horrifying scene in The Last Samurai where Tom Cruise punished the enemy by MANUALLY breaking his spine and bent him backward over a rough hewn log. These are bones, people. BONES. That disgusting cracking sound they make is like Paris Hilton and Britney Spears singing a duet. It bleeds your ears dry and kills you.
And can you believe? Despite the above? The Rock makes me walk on his back and push his spinal column to crack it. (“Spinal” is the grossest word ever.) Of course I refuse, but the thing about The Rock is he doesn’t let me off so easy. He’d totally be that kid in those movies who encouraged the bespeckled hesitant kid to cliff dive.
God bless him.
But still no.
I refuse to crack bones or have them cracked anywhere on my person.
TO BE CONTINUED…
(I have to tell you in all honesty that I never thought I would be doing what I am doing now. Not in a million years.)