Barbie-Perfection in Gross-land

Do any of you ever feel like they might be slightly more insane than the average person in some regards? Because boy, am I feeling like that right now. Again. I’m too lazy to check how many blogs I start in a similar fashion, but I’m betting it’s a lot. Todays topic? Sounds. Or more specific: yucky sounds!

A confession to start off with:
This topic bothers me SO SO much, that I’ve actually been on the fence on even writing about it for a while. For reals. Just the thought of writing about it already gets me al jittery frustrated icky nervous. Because it’s so unavoidably near and dear to my whole persona, apparently.

Because…
And I kid you not….
I am a classy lady.

Sure, I made myself giggle saying that, because in a lot of ways I am the FURTHEST thing from what could ever be considered classy – but when it comes to the ‘delicate’ ways of a lady – I am your gal. Thing is, I don’t even know how I got to be this way. But call it what you will: when it comes to the down and dirty of the human body, I despise it. Not implying things of a sexual nature, but the far more base activities like belching, or passing gass or other toilet-related points of business. In my mind – they ought not exist. Girls don’t do any of the above. Or at least, not where anyone might be confronted with such behavior.

Honestly – I had to type ‘passing gass’ up there. Because even typing the word ‘fart’ is making me cringe. The wordt itself is ALREADY unpleasant. Not ok. Gross. I realize I typed it just now, but I’m making a point alright?

There’s people who have a REALLY strong aversion to certain sounds. Like chewing. Misophonia, is what they call this hatred of sounds. It has an official name, so it’s obviously a thing. A label. And even though it’s probably not what this is (my uncomfortableness with human bodily functions) – it lives in the same realm I reckon. And in my perfect realm – these things would not exist. They would not be part of my world.

I dunno where this particular thing originated for me. But all I know is this:
I am fucking hella uptight when it comes to any and all of these things. Something which I hardly ever notice except for times like these where you’re in that shiny new period with a new lover and are discovering ways to co-exist as ‘normal’ human beings outside of the dating-fakery-perfection.

However, where most people will slowly transition into a more at-ease way of being around eachother after a certain amount of time….I don’t really do that. It doesn’t matter to me whether I’ve been with someone for 1 date, a few months or eight years (seriously, I had this happen) – it doesn’t change for me. Not saying that I’m not comfortable with people, not at all. But my body-control does not change with my level of comfort. Ever.

Burping, farting (god, I hate that word), picking or blowing noses or anything else involving toiletty sounds, or smells or substances – I try to avoid at all costs. Panickly so, even. Because obviously…there’s people who don’t give a rats ass and just exist in whatever way they see fit. I’m not writing this for anyone in particular, mind you. I’ve always been around folk like this, much to my amazement. Even from a young age, when I still lived with my family. Pigs. All of ‘em I tell you.

People who’ve been brought up to be comfortable enough around other people to urinate in public. Or leave the bathroom open for anyone to walk in. Or who dig out scabs and boogers and flakes of dandruff in full view of others. Who make fart-jokes accompanied by actual sound-effects. Who blow raspberries on their loving partners for shits and giggles.

And here I am in awe of that.

Me. Who can hide in a public toilet stall for an age, waiting for people to clear out so no one might hear any involuntary sounds.
Me. Who has learned to hold in any and all gassy escapees to insane amounts of bloating and belly-aches just so there’s no indecent sounds or smells for any one the people around her.
Me. Who hides behind a hand to use a tootpick. Who will leave the room to blow her nose. Who will ALWAYS always lock the toilet and bathroom doors, even when she’s alone in the house.
Me. Who is in horror of sleeping with other people, just for the mere fact that while unconscious all of the aforementioned gass can (and probably WILL) escape and embarass the crap out of her.
Me. Who shivers in horror at potential nosebleeds, or runny noses, or eyecrumbles or or or or.

Me. Who just wants to be Barbie-perfect instead of actually messily human.
An added disclaimer: I do not think any less of the people who DO do these things. I REALIZE they are perfectly normal and all of that. I just. I just hate all of it and don’t wanna be caught doing it. Or hear it being done, if I can avoid it.

BUT
Here’s the thing. And obviously I cannot say this for certain, because it might just be a figment of my hyperfocus and imagination: But sounds like these CARRY so much further than any others.

Seriously. I’ll sit on the couch, volume turned up high enough to afford whoever is on the toilet some privacy to do their business unaudited and STILL hear the sounds I DON’T WANNA BE REGISTERING AT ALL. I can be at the entire opposite end of a house and still hear someone toot three floors up and with all the doors inbetween closed, while doing the dishes over running water with the radio on. And no matter how many layers of clothing, blankets, pillows or whatever you try to muffle that inescapable moment with that sometimes is upon you…it’s going to sound like a damn strike of thunder in an empty cathedral. Which – lemme tell you – does NOT help in becoming more relaxed about such matters. Damnit.

WHY IS THAT.

Can’t we just be gross in peace. And unseen silence?
And when alone and only alone?

#wishful thinking