I recently realized I’m “not normal.” Actually I think I realized that in the 7th grade but just recently when it comes to germs. Specifically, butt germs.
The straight-up truth is, I’ll sit on any toilet seat, anywhere, at any time. As long as it appears dry. This has only backfired once in my life. I must have been distracted because without looking I plopped my tushie down on the seat and was COVERED in what I can only assume was male urine because it appeared the suspect had taken great care to not only mark his territory on the toilet, but all over the entire single-user restroom. I immediately went home and showered.
My sister, Heather, feels this way anytime she touches what she perceives to be a germy surface. She’ll do anything to avoid a public restroom. Recently she realized she had to “go” as she was pulling into the gym parking lot and turned around and drove home, missing the class.
“But what are you afraid of?” I asked her last night.
“The germs!” as if that’s the most ridiculous question she’s ever heard.
“No but what are you actually afraid is going to happen if your butt touches the toilet?” I need to know!
She looks at me as if a turkey leg is growing out of my head.
So I involve her husband, Mike, in the conversation.
“Mike. Do you sit on toilet seats?” I ask.
“I power squat.” And he immediately and unabashedly demonstrates his power squat over an imaginary toilet.
“Because I will sit on any public toilet,” I explain. “Even there is a toilet seat cover right there, I won’t use it. What’s the point?”
His jaw literally drops like a cartoon cat’s. He stares at me for at least five seconds with his mouth in that position. I can almost see his opinion of me completely transforming in that moment. He’s speechless, so I go on.
“What are you actually afraid of?”
“Feces. The feces will absorb into your buttocks and you’ll get herpes. STD’s, Chlamydia….”
“But none of my openings are touching the toilet seat! None of that can absorb through my skin!” I protest.
He then goes into hypothetical’s about “slipping” on the toilet and suddenly riding “side saddle”. It feels like this has happened to him before and I’d rather not have that image in my mind so I turn to 16-year-old Tyson, my nephew, who has been listening.
“Butt worms,” he says.
“Tyson. For the last time, those worms didn’t live in my butt, they lived in my stomach!” and I’m instantly regretting showing him my parasite that I saved in the toilet.
I recently did a cleanse in which I did pass several rope worms through my system. Heather, who immediately had to wash her hands upon viewing the parasite, had requested I save him so she could see him in person. I named him Perry.
When Tyson peered into the toilet his face turned white and I thought in that moment I was going to have to catch my 6 foot 3 football-player nephew. His eyes glazed over as he temporarily lost consciousness but was thankfully able to stay upright. He’s since referred to my “butt worms” on many occasions.
FYI- you can’t get parasites from toilet seats. I googled it just now.
As part of this parasite-passing diet I’m doing, my food choices are limited. No sugar, no grain, no processed food. Nothing that gives me pleasure. So I grew a garden. With lots of lettuce. I’m telling my girlfriend, Jessica about the lettuce garden when she gets a pained expression on her face.
“Oh no. What?” I ask.
“I grew lettuce once, and only once.”
Apparently she cut and washed her lettuce thoroughly in a sink bath. (Better than I had.) She then put the leaves in gallon ziplock bags and when she went to use it the first time noticed teeny, tiny green bugs on the bags. She freaked out and threw it all away.
“Ew! Ew! Why did you tell me that?” I’m feeling the heebie jeebies. “Mine are in those stay-fresh green bags! I never would see green bugs on them! And I’ve eaten it every day this week!”
Now it’s like I really don’t want to know if there are bugs on my lettuce but I can’t NOT look! That night I make my family tacos and I intend to eat taco salad. I stare at my lettuce, telepathically willing any bugs to disappear. I pull out the first paper towel in the bag. It’s clean.
“Thank you Lord!!”
I pull out the second one and there they are. Two itsy bitsy green bugs. Nooooo!!!! They do exist!
But I didn’t throw it away.
I had a choice. I could literally eat only taco meat and cheese out of a bowl with a spoon for dinner or try to salvage the bug-lettuce. I know what a normal person would do. But we’ve already established my level of normalcy. I could eat a taco shell and ruin my diet… I could starve. I want a taco salad, damnit! I have no other food in my house I can eat right now!
I washed that lettuce, ran it through the salad spinner twice and I ate it. I ate the bug-lettuce!
Before I go I should note that my two greatest fears involve bugs: spiders and lice. My fear of lice is so great that included in my emergency store is RID Lice Shampoo. If a Zombie Apocalypse happens we’ll be starving and living in the dark because I haven’t stored SPAM or batteries, but dangit, my brain-eating children will be lice-free!