Monday, August 26, 2013

I'm Bored. Can I bite you?


Today, I decided to take a break from the story of me and the husband (sorry to leave you guys hanging about the jacket...just pretend it's like when you want to know what happens between Meredith and McDreamy but instead of telling you, they show a lame rerun instead. today is just like that, except for the whole lame rerun part.). I figured some of you might need a time out from all that romance. Plus, I have something I need to get off my chest. A confession of sorts. And since you guys are kinda like my therapists, I figure it's only appropriate to lay it all out here. 

Before I start, let us all remember that, as my therapists, you guys are not allowed to judge. ‘Kay?

Seriously. NO JUDGING.

My confession...

I am a biter. When I was little I used to bite other little kids.

On the face.

I’d like to say I did this in self-defense, but if I know me (and I think I do), I did this for my own amusement and probably also because I was bored.



My mom used to babysit other children. They were all boys, which, according to context clues and deductive reasoning, means I was the only girl. While I have very few memories of those early years, I think it’s only safe to assume that all the boys wanted to date me. Not only did I have shiny hair, but I had the fattest thighs ever seen on a toddler. We all know how much two year boys love a girl who can make the ground shake when she walks so I imagine the battle for my attention was constant.

Ever the problem solver, I’m sure I was eventually  like, “Enough already. All your fighting is super annoying, plus it’s interfering with giving my Barbie’s new haircuts with these scissors that I stole from my mom, which obviously she doesn’t know that I have and if any of you rat me out I WILL CUT YOU.”

And then they were all, “Oh we would never tell on you, our Fat Thigh Shiny Haired Queen.” And then they started fighting again and I was all, “Silence! I’ve come up with a way to end your squabbles for my affections once and for all. I will bite each one of you on the face and whoever can stand the pain the longest will be my beau.”*

Naturally, they readily agreed and so I began the process of determining the most bad ass boy in all the land until my mom walked in and was all, “my child is a monster!” She quickly enrolled me in electroshock therapy, or grounded me until I was 17, or made me sit in time out for two minutes, or did whatever it is you do when your two year old is exhibiting psychopathic behavior.

And that was end of my biting days…

Until I became an adult.

You see, although I have gotten older, I am still little. It is very hard to protect yourself when you are little. Since getting kidnapped/mugged/mauled by bears is low on my list of priorities, it is important to me that I know how to kick some ass.

I’ve heard karate is a good form of self-defense, so for a while I tried to test my kicking skills out on the husband. But before I could ever make contact with body parts meant to render him a weeping useless mass of male, he would grab my foot causing me to lose my balance and almost fall down.  He wouldn’t let go until I screamed, “Let me go, you monster! You’re going to make me fall and get hurt!”

The husband: Then don’t try to kick me!

Me: Don’t you want me to learn how to defend myself?!

The husband: Yeah, but not by kicking me in the balls!

Honestly, it’s like he wants me to get stolen.**

A staunch believer in a woman’s right to defend herself, and not one to give up easily, I turned to other methods.

Punching? Every time I tried to punch something I’d end up hurting myself. I’m no martial arts expert, but I can confidently say that when trying to defend yourself, don’t inflict more pain to your being than your attacker does.

Throwing knives? The husband adamantly refused to let me try this one out on him.

I was quickly running out of options and time was of the essence. Life for us ladies is one potential kidnapping/mugging/bear mauling moment after another. I had to dig deep (okay, honestly not that deep) to uncover the strength I knew I possessed…with my jaws.

To paraphrase my good friend Christina Augilera, “I am a biter. I aint gonna stop. There is no turning back.”

Once I unleashed the biter in me, there was no reining her back in. I would like to say that I only bite in self-defense, but one time I bit my friend during a game of Spoons. We both went for the same spoon and she wouldn’t let go so of course I bit her. I’ve never seen the Spoons rulebook, but I’m pretty sure rule number one is secure a spoon by any means necessary.

And sometimes I just bite the husband for reasons that I can only assume have to do with being bored and/or wanting to amuse myself (the thirty year old version of me is not much different than the two year old version of me). The husband is all, “OW! Don’t do that,” every single time I bite him (Every Single Time!) until one time I was all, “Oh come on, it can’t hurt that bad. Bite me.” And then he was all, “No.” and I was all, “Yes.”

We went 400 rounds until I finally wore him down and he bit me. And I was all, “Harder! Harder! Harder!”

He bit harder and harder and harder until I finally shouted, “OW! That hurt! Why would you do that?!”

And then the husband went into the other room where I’m pretty sure he called his attorney to find out if forced biting is acceptable grounds for divorce.

The answer is, no, husband, it is not.


I’ve never bitten a stranger, but I came close a few months ago at friend’s bachelorette party when a guy grabbed my arm. He wouldn’t let go (in his defense, he was the brother of a bachelor we had run into and he took his job of guarding the bachelor's bra (which I had stolen (it's a long  (and fantastic) story)) very seriously), and I opened my mouth to bite him when I remembered the husband’s words, “It’s not okay to bite people!” 

(I’m pretty sure that years ago, when the husband envisioned himself as a husband, that is not a sentence he ever thought he’d have to say to his wife.  He also probably never thought he’d tell his wife she’d make a good mob boss, but that’s exactly what he said to me the other day, to which I replied, “Funny you should mention that. Please take this horse head and stick in our neighbor, Gordon’s, bed. He’s being an asshole again.”)

I probably should seek therapy for this odd little…quirk. But it’s my one thing. Other than biting people for funsies, I am completely normal. Totally. And besides, quirks are charming. Right?

Say yes, or I’ll bite you.


*Lest anyone think my mother was a terrible babysitter, let me assure you that I only bit one child, lightly, before she put a stop to it. I did not get to bite ALL THE BOYS. Leave it to a mother to ruin a child's fun.

**No, seriously. He wants me to get stolen.
 
Editor’s note: No horses were harmed in the making of this blog post. A husband may have been kicked, punched and bitten, though.
 

Comment gem - every one of them! Seriously, you guys are amazing and crack me up. I always love your comments, but you guys are taking them to a whole new level of awesome sausage. I only hope my posts can keep up with your fantasticness. It was impossible for me to pick a gem, so I put your names in a hat, closed my eyes and drew a name. And the winner is...

Is the moon made of many, many Oreos, or just one giant Oreo? I feel like this impacts my decision on what to do. Wait. No it doesn't. Eat it is still my answer.

Fast and the Furious was a *paradigm* when I was in high school. It's a miracle we didn't die in Hubby's 1988 white Chevy Cavalier.

I hope you kept the jacket, but never gave it back.

Comment gem?! Now I'm just reminded that I'm upset with you about the whole wine thing.

6 comments:

  1. glad I'm not alone in cutting all the hair off of barbies.

    or biting.

    a girl has to defend herself.

    ReplyDelete
  2. It's a good thing you aren't a mom. Seriously. I actually bit my Noah when he was tiny, right on the shoulder, and made him cry. I couldn't help it. Seriously, he was THE CUTEST BABY EVERY TO LIVE IN THE WORLD. Seriously. So cute. And he tasted good too.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Why was there no fat-thighed baby photo in this post?!

    ReplyDelete
  4. If I ever get the peeing-my-pants honor of meeting you, I will hope to not piss you off in a way that makes you want to bite me. Then again, I could cast the bite marks and sell that shit on ebay!

    ReplyDelete
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    ReplyDelete

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