In an attempt to not be too depressing, and also to ignore actual real world problems, I have compiled a list of my more secondary fears. My top fear is actually sexual assault (as it is for many people, I’m sure) and it’s the reason I cab home from work at night and early in the morning. It’s also the reason why I don’t trust the cab driver but figure my odds might be better than walking home. I swear, the true irony of the gender wage gap (which exists and please kindly go read a book, or a newspaper article, or really just ANYTHING, except for “alternative facts” also known as lies, if you think it doesn’t) is that women should actually be paid more because it costs more for us to feel (and be) secure. For example, I would like an extra $40 a week to pay for my cab rides in the late/early hours, because these statistics (and also these) terrify me. And I’m a white woman. I am not disabled (83%!! Are you fucking kidding me?) or Indigenous. I cannot imagine how those women feel. So now that that disclaimer is out of the way, here are my other less rational fears, in no particular order because they all are worthy contenders.
1. Becoming my parents (sorry Mom and Dad).
2. The vomiting part of childbirth, but interestingly not the tearing and/or possible death part. Vom-ing in general is a pretty major fear of mine. It’s something I do only every 5 or so years but when it comes it comes with fury and I have an emotional breakdown that takes me roughly another five years to recover from. #viciouscircle
3. Bleaching my hair (see Kim K above) to the point that it falls out, despite the fact that I never have bleached my hair and don’t ever plan to because my mother was probably right when she told me that it would make me “look sick.” She was also correct when she told me that parting my hair in the middle “really emphasizes your nose.” That doesn’t mean she had to say it though. #rude
4. Dying and then realizing God IS real and really DOES hate the LGBTQ’s of the world, and then I’m fucked (haha this isn’t a real fear, not because I’m certain God isn’t real, but because if it/they/she (?) is real I think they’ll be quite nice).
5. Being buried in a cemetery where they encase your coffin in cement because they’re concerned about the ground shifting as the decomposing process progresses (seriously, this is a ridiculous practice, imo). And thank you for asking how I would LIKE to be buried. I would like to be buried in a cotton, decomposable cloth and then have a tree planted on my grave. But the tree has to be mature enough to have someone (presumably/hopefully someone who loves me) engrave my initials into it IMMEDIATELY after I’ve been buried. And it would be cool if this could be on a bluff on the ocean, so that eventually my bones could be washed to sea as the bluff erodes from the elements (that way no future scientists can dig me up and put their greedy mitts all over my dirty bones and say they learned things about how I died and reveal all my bone secrets to the world).
6.Turning 40 and then suddenly caring that my grass isn’t green enough. The day I put energy into maintaining a “lawn,” please put me out of my misery (this truly is a real fear).
7. My children being less progressive than I am. (See Mom and Dad, I don’t want MY children to become their parent either!) I hope my children think I’m a little bit offensive and help me sort out my misguided, yet well-intentioned ways. I will be very upset if my children are into traditional history. #RevisionistPostModernAllTheWay #OrWhateverNewWayTheyAreStudyingHistory #EducateMe
8. Not getting a chance to cash in on the free boob job the Canadian government is going to give me because I have the BRCA1 gene mutation (Just like Angelina Jolie, so cool right? Celebrities: They’re mutated just like us!). Come 40, even if I start inexplicably caring about what my lawn looks like, at least I get new boobs, right? If I don’t get a free new rack I will be most disappointed. #ItsTheLittleThings
9. Dying while listening to music and then my family finding out that I was listening to “Untouched” by the Veronicas when I died.
10. Dying last after all my siblings. For real. I cried for a millisecond when I wrote this. If I was an actress, the thought of this would be what I would use to prepare for my devastating, oscar-worthy ugly-cry scene.
So that’s my top ten list of my sort- of top fears. If you notice, dying is actually NOT one of my fears. Death and taxes my friends, death and taxes. You can’t fight that shit. I look forward to that sweet, sweet release. I don’t plan on doing DMT while I’m alive, so experiencing it when I die is going to be so extra!