Squeamish
It’s 12.37am and I’m sitting here, writing this, and stalking people on Twitter, and yawning a bit, and picking the skin on my feet.
DISGUSTING BEHAVIOUR KLAXON.
Not the stalking. That’s legit. I mean the picking of skin. On my FEETS. Feet are farking heinous. This is a FACT. I am not a fan of feet in any way, shape, or be-toed form. The thought of foot skin – dried, yellowing, crunchy old foot skin – is making me barf a bit in my mouth as I think about it. So why do I pick at my feet? If it makes me feel so squeamish?
Habit, I guess. I can cope with my own feet. However, I cannot – PHYSICALLY CANNOT – run away screaming from my own feet. That is a nonsense. But other people’s feet? Oh my farking gawd, no. Do not come at me with your feet. Do not presume to wave them afore my eyes. I will not claim to turn uber-violent upon the presentation of your feet into my immediate sphere, but yeah, I will END YOU WITH DEATH if you try that lark. You foot weirdo.
Feet! I dunno why! It’s the toes! They’re AN ODD SHAPE. Tinily phallic, and not in a good way. And way too wiggly. Sometimes, too independently wiggly, as if they were not related to the rest of the human being at all?
Most people DO NOT keep their feet in acceptable condition. Now here’s where I get dead squeamish. Y’know those Ped-Egg ads on TV? Where the person SHAVES THEIR FEET INTO A BIN? Yeah. YEAH. That’s it. Ped-Eggs are basically cheese graters for your feet. VOM O’CLOCK. Dead foot skin is my Kryptonite. Which I probably should not admit on my blog, but y’all won’t get near me with it anyways. I can sense dead foot skin from miles away and take the necessary precautions, that is to say, arm myself with weapons that will hurt you permanently, if you try to throw dead foot skin in my face. I’M READY FOR YOU, you bastards.
The bile is rising. Seriously. So squeamish. Some other things that make me shudder and go ‘eeeeewwwwwww’ are:
- needles, going INTO skin, and maybe also going straight through and coming out the other side
- bin juice/sink crap/plughole hair
- stepping on slugs/snails/raisins (the fulsome ‘squish’)
- other people’s eye crap (for the LOVE OF GOD, wipe your eyes)
- vomit. Jeezus, all vomit. Ever. Can’t do it. EVER. Just the idea of it is making me BOAK which is a CRUEL IRONY
Ack, y’know, this whole blog post is now making me feel oh-so-queasy. I have to stop. I have to stop, and mostly cos I need to go and file the hard, calcified skin off from the bottom of my heel. With a cheese grater. Ahem.
What makes you squeamish? Try not to sick in my face.
Just had my feet shaved for my birthday #specialtreat. Now can’t walk on gravel – shame! but they are pretty and not at all abrasive.
THAT’S a special treat?? I’d need someone to attack mine with a sandblaster. That’s not a treat for ANYONE involved.
I hate loose teeth. UGH! They are so gross. Losing teeth is traumatic. Odd, because it’s fine when you’re a kid. Rites of passage and all that, but now, UGH! *gags*
Also, chewing gum makes me squeamish.
(by the way, I totes have a ped egg)
Ack, you have a Ped-Egg?? EEEEWWWWW
OMG I feel your PAIN for the grosseness of feet! I actually BAN PEOPLE from getting on my bed with their feet (even if SOCKED) anywhere NEAR the top end. Top and tail? FUCK OFF. I’d rather choke on your hair than eat your feet in the night! Feet are rank. Even clean, tidy ones. They’re MARGINALLY more bearable with socks on,,,because I can’t see them…unless they smell, then take your stilton stumps elsewhere minger. …..*shudder*
This is why shoes are great!
This might also explain my unnatural love of socks?
Unnatural? Are you unnaturally attracted to socks then? Do you use and abuse them? You deviant!
I dunno, im just drawn to them. ll different patterns and colours and styles. I LOVE SOCKS!
NICE SAVE!
lmfao i couldve written this myself, but i dont want to admit to x number of bloggers about my foot habit. those ped eggs…gross, i call them foot graters
*barf* It’s that bit in the advert where they TIP the SHAVINGS IN A BIN… *vom*
Loose teeth. When my son was loosing his first tooth and wiggling it back and forth…ewww. *Shudders*
Ack! You’re so right. I have dreams about my teeth being loose. HIDEOUS.
What makes me squeamish? Pretty much everything my other half does to be honest. But let’s not get into that.
Witnessing someone cutting their nails
Seeing men shave – that’s a hefty razor, be bloody careful!
Words like slash, slit, slice, flesh, skull …*heave*
Dog poo on pavement, and even worse – SQUASHED dog poo that someone has stepped in and is now ingrained into the bottom of their shoe!
DEFINITELY feet and god knows my trotters would be up there on that list
That gross white spit stuff that sometimes accumulates in the corners of people’s mouths when speaking
Other people’s hair in YOUR house/food/drink
Similarly, lipstick marks on the glass. I don’t wear lipstick!
Old men saggy arses (thankfully I’ve never seen one in real life, but I’ve watched films and seem images. Shit like that never leaves you. I can’t walk past the bowls club here any more)
Raw meat
Spirits (gin, vodka and whatnot) splashing onto my skin in its neat form. In my head, it’s like it will burn my skin off
Belly button fluff
My dog’s ‘lipstick’ gunge
I could go on and on and on, but I need to immerse myself in Dettol after thinking about this. Good day to you.
*tries to work out what ‘dog lipstick gunge’ might be* *realises* *BARFS*
People sniffing or spitting. The way footballers spit. Eu eu eu.
Picking your feet isn’t so bad. It would only be bad if someone found your pickings.!
Yeah as if I would leave them lying around, eugh gross innit *sheepishly gathers up pickings*
Bad breath.
Birds, particularly chickens. I have a bird phobia which may or may not but most likely originated when my older brother threw a chicken at me when I was 5 years old.
Cracking an egg. May be related to the bird business. My son started cracking his own eggs at 14 months out of desperation cos I just couldn’t do it. Bad mum. But excellent fine motor skills for kid, hey.
Oily hair.
Sink crap.
Hair in food. Especially if you are curly.
Jesus whiskers, I feel sick now.
Yeah this post seems to bring the nausea out in a lot of people. Dunno why. There’s something about raw eggs that makes me a bit squeamish, actually. It’s the slippy slidey egg white and the weird tiny tentacle bit I think. Then you consider what an egg actually is… and… *barf*
I’m in total agreement about frogs; they turn my stomach. When we moved into our house the garden was full of little compost heaps, which I had to clear. Quite often, when I drew the fork out, there would be a frog impaled on the spike. I spent the whole job retching. I can’t be doing with wobbly teeth, or grinding teeth. Otherwise I’m quite easy to live with.
Eugh grinding teeth. That is proper shuddery. I’m still OK with frogs though.
Frogs…just looking at them, thinking of them, seeing them, I put the bin out last might and one jumped onto my foot, I scremed so loud and hard I wee’d myself, them screamed again, and wee’d myself again, this is the only time wee-ing oneself is acceptable…
i’ll go now and leave you with that, sorry…!
xxx
I quite like frogs. Not on my foot, mind. Ack now we’re back to feet *shudder* xx
People picking scabs, or cracking their knuckles and stuff.
I like women’s feet though, they are dainty and nice.
Not mine. My feet are like something the Nazis are trying to steal off Indiana Jones (i.e. withered and ancient, not imbued with unholy powers. Or maybe they are, I’ve not ever tried)
Nothing used to make me squeamish. I could watch horror films & surgery on TV without wanting to hurl. But then I had 2 hyperemesis pregnancies, when EVERYTHING made me sick. That’s not an exaggeration – looking at the fridge door made me throw up. Looking at a toothbrush, toilet or sink. The smell of pretty much anything, including the smell of my own daughter. It was horrendous.
Anyway, now I find my stomach is not as cast iron as it used to be. Things that make me wincey: the thought of needles going into my eyeballs or under my fingernails; brushing velvet or velour the wrong way; mouldy fruit; outy belly buttons; finding a tubey thing when eating liver; putting my finger through the paper when wiping my arse; stuff that leaks out of bins; plughole smeg; periods; milk skin on tea, coffee or rice pudding; lumpy bits in yogurt or jam. I’m sure there’s more. But I’ll stop now.
*boak* *boak* *boak* That’s quite a list. I would NEVER eat liver for that very reason (tubey bits, barf). Also with you on the fingernail thing. Splinters! EEEK!
Ha! Brilliant. But tell me again why you were picking your own?… Standing on slugs/snails/raisins can be equalled by ‘Standing on frogs/hot dog sausage/pasta twists’
The frog was definitely the worst
Ack! Did you SQUISH a frog?? Jeezus. And BARF. I was picking my feet cos there was some hard skin just begging to be picked. I know, I know, disgusting. It won’t happen again. *picks feet*
The frog was totally by accident. Came out of a friend’s house at night and it was on the driveway. And yes, flat as a pancake… Bleurgh :-/
Ack!