needle in armAs we get older, there are some things you grow out of. An absolute hatred for coffee, for example. Or that phase of loving everything from Abercrombie & Fitch. Or ah-ha! Wearing bows everywhere (unless you're Snooki, of course).

Something I have yet to really grow out of, though? My fear of needles, as I was so wonderfully reminded of Monday at the doctor's office when a numbing needle was heading straight for my underarm and tears instantaneously started streaming down my face. Not just baby tears. Full-on crocodile.

What am I? One old scaredy cat, that's what.

It's hard to explain. I know, I KNOW! It's just a little needle. I am SO much bigger than this eensy silver stick. I also know that whatever is about to go down will only hurt/sting/tingle for a second. But THAT needle is going into MY arm and it makes me uncontrollably nervous with anxiety. I am out of control and I don't like it.

Every single time, I feel like I'm 6 years old again. I'm instantly brought back to one of the many times where I sat wailing in the doctor's office cuddled in my mothers arm's for a solid 20 minutes before she could calm me down enough to let the doctor give me the Mickey Mouse shaped prick. I guess I could just never understand why Mickey wanted to hurt me when, otherwise, he's so damn friendly.

As a brief side note -- have you ever had a bad prick? You know, the kind that makes you black and blue for days? Ugh, I dread them. Personally, I'm not really into being the experimental patient for the new nurse in training. Don't you think I notice you telling her what to do and when to do it?

Sigh. Okay. I feel a bit better getting all this off my chest. Will I ever really get over this? Eh, probably not. You better believe I'm trying, though.

Do you have a fear of needles? Am I crazy? You can be honest.

 

Image via blakespot/Flickr