Perfectly Normal Childhood Incidents That Have Scarred Me For Life

1. Being pushed on the playground.
Oooo, damn you, Brad Collins! I was in fourth grade, and it was the first time anyone besides my little brother had been mean to me simply because he didn't like me. I still remember the little tyrant's face...

2. Nosebleeds.
I used to get nosebleeds a lot, but that wasn't so bad as when I had one so bad, my mom had to bring an extra change of clothes to school and...gulp...she brought me a dress WITH A BELT. No other third grade girls were wearing dresses with belts. Mortifying, really.

3. Eating all my vegetables.
My parents had a rule: "If you don't eat it for dinner, you eat it for breakfast." This threat was supposed to scare us into eating all our vegetables at the time they were served. Ugh...cold Brussels Sprouts before 8 a.m. are a damaging thing.

4. Learning how to drive stick shift.
My family operated under the, "Kids learn best when they are forced to learn quickly" principle. My parents made me learn to drive a stick shift all alone on The Ohio State University campus (to be fair, I did have to go to piano lessons, and my parents were both stuck at work). Guess how fun it is to parallel park in front of an audience of frat boys? IT'S NOT.

5. My first kiss.
My first kiss was decidedly awful, and I was afraid for years that all kissing would entail someone slobbering all over the lower half of my face.

What are your traumatic childhood memories?


Anonymous said...

LOVE this!

here are some of mine:

1- Being taken to school in a lime green El Camino we would borrow from the family car mechanic when our car was on the fritz (which was all the time). My mom refused to drop me off or pick me up at the end of the school driveway.

2- The broken promises my father made about building me a go-kart and playhouse. Yet, he would buy some of the parts and leave them laying around in the yard. Those four wheels taunted me for years.

3- My first kiss was terrible as well- he had braces and left a nasty metallic taste in my mouth unlike anything I have experienced since.

jezzabellegiggles said...

SCARPBOOKING...ive always love starting them but i never have the patients to finish them!!!

i think its the same for all my projects.. when i have an idea, its fun.. but lazyness gets in the way of completion!!


jezzabellegiggles said...

opps.. the above post was a different list.

Godlesscupcake said...

I no particular order:
Mint chocolate chip ice cream - I was 6, had contracted the flu and was home being "cared for" by my oaf of a father. This was the first time I had ever tried the flavor and my dad neglected to remember not to give really sick kids dairy. Needless to say there was minty green puke all over the place and since then I have always had an aversion to the light green cream.
Swimming for the first few times - abusive is a light term for my mother's kind of parenting. Anyways, her method of conditioning us was to "dunk and drown" us until we we "stopped screaming and started swimming". I am 24 years old and still am only marginally good at swimming because I always feel extremely uncomfortable in large amounts of water.
My first make out session- Well, not the make out session, the evil Catholic nun that broke it up, verbally accosted us, spanked the crap out of me and sent Kevin to get violated by a priest.

Lanika said...

first period was so terrible it gave me full blown anxiety attacts at the thought that that would happen again next month, and the month after that... and the month after that...

first kiss left me terrified as well that kisses would always suck and there was something wrong with me and that all kisses were like that and everyone was okay with it but me.

first boyfriend brought up marriage and kids on the first date. told me he loved me on the second date. we were fifteen. I remember trying not to laugh straight in his face. I've been terrified of commitment ever since, I swear

the day I got pulled over at a routine polica traffic stop driving my dad's car and having to explain to the officers that I was not aware that marijuana was in my vehicle and plea for them to belive that it was not mine, it was my dad's. They felt bad when I started crying and retelling stories of teachers labelling me a druggie because I smelled like the car my dad had driven me to school in and missed ballet recitals and they let me go.

My dad's idea of teaching me how to ride a bike is putting me on the seat, and sending it down a hill. I was five. I'm twenty, and still cannot ride a bike. Nor can I swim due to my uncle believing that if he just tossed me into the deep end of his pool my survival instincts would kick in.
Apparently, I am lacking survival instincts.

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