Grosseries & Grotesqueries.

As you may have noticed, I have a keen, keen eye for assaults on my sense of hygienia, for egregious health hazards, and for downright disgustitudes. (As indeed have I a keen eye for spotting hand sani everywhere.)

Today I was watching MTV's True Life, because, AWESOME. And this chick? who has a compulsive shopping habit? has THIS under her fingernails:

What in the figurative fuck. Are you for real right now because I'm afraid I can't even. You accidentally some handsoap.



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There was recently this commercial for something like jam, and this little four-year-old girl had the filthiest figernails I've ever seen. I was like, "Seriously? For a commercial? With a close-up on the hands? And they couldn't scrub those paws up a little?" I mean, heavens, don't hire a hand model for a tot touting the tastiness of Smuckers, but sweet Moses. WASH HER HANDS.

And yes, I curse myself fortnightly that I didn't snap a pic of that commercial.

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Then there's THIS BASIC BITCH who has the same problem. Well, she has lots of problems, some worse than others. Por ejemplo, she drinks five bottles of nail polish a day.

Bygones.

Anyway, I was watching "My Strange Addiction" when I spied this atrocity. I direct your eye to her thumbnail. Now I direct your eye to me, hunched over the porcelain throne, making an offering to the toilet gods.

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In a similar vein, this lady on the same show is "addicted to" her pillow. Fine. Dandy. Great. Super. Right? 

Except that she BOUGHT it at an ANTIQUE store. It was a used pillow to begin with. Also? she has never washed it, not ever.

Never.

Not EVER.

She has NEVER WASHED IT.

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In other What Is This Fuckery, Jennifer Lawrence (you know, Katniss) doesn't wash her hands after using public bathrooms. Apparently she is "notorious for her quick bathroom breaks," and she states, “I had this theory that hand washing is overrated. And it was true: The bathroom door had the same bacteria as the toilet seat, and the sink was the dirtiest part – it was dirtier than the toilet handle.”

My thoughts on the matter?

Let's break this down.

1nd: It is unlikely that the bathroom sink is dirtier than the flush handle, as someone with bum-bum germs on their hands would get those v. same germs on the flusher AND the sink--they're all the same germ. I'm not insinuating that the sink is cleaner than the flusher, but they both have bum-bum germs. Why would your hands be dirtier as you wash them, than when you just flushed the toilet moments ago? Where are these extra germs coming from in between the flush and the wash?

2rd: Don't fucking touch the flusher with your hands. Didn't Auntie JoJo teach you anything? If one person flushes with their shoe, then you have to too. Sorry.

3th: Let's pretend for a moment J.Law is right about the sink being the dirtiest place in the restroom. This begs the following questions: (a) Who goes around TOUCHING the inside of a public restroom sink? it's not like people are filling up the sink bowl at Denny's and using it to splash water on their faces; and (ii) Has she never heard of ways to avoid getting the germs from sink handles? The same goes for...

4st: ...The part about how she says the bathroom door has the same bacteria as the toilet seat. She's not wrong about that, but again, doesn't she know there are ways around touching the bathroom door, ways that do not involve NOT WASHING YOUR HANDS?

5rd: What does J.Law do when she makes a duke in a public restroom? Still not wash her hands? Lord have mercy. I may perish.

6pf: Someone needs to teach J.Law The Way of the Public Restroom. It is easy. First, you use the restroom, being careful not to transfer germs to your pants zipper or button. You may even turn the lock with toilet paper, if you wish. Proceed to your bidness. Next, you flush with your shoe. Then, you go out and roll down the paper towel first. YES FIRST. Then, you wash thoroughly with soap. THEN, you tear off the paper towel and dry your hands, then use the same paper towel to turn OFF the water. Then, use the paper towel to also open the bathroom door upon exiting. IT'S JUST THAT EASY. It doesn't take any longer; it just means reversing a few of the things you do anyway.

CONCLUSION: Is J.Law nuts? Why doesn't she know how to clean her hands and not pick up unwanted germs? What does she do when she takes a poo? Does she wash at home, even though home bathroom sinks are also very dirty? Can a CONCLUSION be full of questions and still be a CONCLUSION? Who maintains things around here anyway?

"Oops I accidentally some fecal matter"

"My hygiene would make you hergle blergle"

"What are, my thoughts on washing, Trebek?"

Anyway.

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Just saw another disgustitude.

Was totally watching Teen Mom SHUT UP, and the youngster in question was at a college and couldn't find anywhere to change her baby's poopy diaper. So what did she do? Go out to her car and change her on the seat or in the hatchback? Find an empty classroom and change her on a desk? Change her on the godforsaken carpet in the hallway? OF COURSE NOT. No, the obvious choice to this whippersnapper was to sit on the public toilet, sit right on it fully clothed, her jeans absorbing every droplet of piddle and smear of shit and hint of STD, and change her baby's diaper that way.

Genius, right? brb vomiting forever

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Seriously, she has not EVER WASHED IT.

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And that concludes this edition of, "Gross Stuff on the Embarrassing Programs I Was Watching and I'll Thank You To Stay Out of My Personal Affairs."

To Live, or Not to Live. That Is OCD.

So my darling friend Darlena, as planned, made her rebuttal to my Hygiene Hypothesis post. The post below this one is the entry I settled on as my quasi-rebuttal-to-a-rebuttal, but in reality, this right here is the first post that her rebuttal inspired.

In her blog post, she makes excellent points. Mostly because it seems she basically agreed with me. Heh. I found myself thinking, "Well, she's not wrong about that...or that...or even that...Hey! I said that too!"

And then I bristled a little bit. I took a moment's offense at the statement "I simply cannot avoid all the germs she can. I have a life."

I took offense because, obviously, it seemed to be telling me I have no life or that I need to get one.  And I know Dar would never hurt my feelings on purpose, but at first, I must confess, I was stung.

But then I thought a little more. And you know what? I TOTALLY DON'T HAVE A LIFE. Or, more accurately, my poor babies don't. (Well, OK, one of my babies, Naomi, is too young, at five months old, to have a life or to know about cold germs and bum-bum germs--although whenever she sneezes, we jokingly say, "Noey, Christsakes, cover your sneeze!!")

But yes, that's the whole point, of this disorder, of this blog: I don't have a life. You're right, Dar.

The whole problem with my OCD is that, indeed, my life and my husband's life and my children's life are drastically impacted. I am consumed with panic and fears about germs, and that means that either (1) I just don't GO anywhere; or (2) I freak out internally whenever we DO go somewhere, which is no fun. No fun at all, I assure you. I don't have a life, because getting out there to live it scares me.

I am a stay-at-home mom. Aside from things like taking time out for the kids' naps or allowing time for my all-important surfing of the web, my job is to raise and grow and inspire and stimulate my children by taking them places in this world. Instead, we stay home. When I say I'm a stay-at-home mom, I got-damn mean it.

So do I have a life? No, not really. Occasionally, when I wake up on the right side of OCD, I do take my kids out--to the park, on an errand to Babies R Us, to the neighbor's house, even, like whoa, into the backyard. I know, right??

Sidenote: What's sad about that is that it's not a joke--it takes extreme effort and motivation to just plain take my kids into our own yard. It's less about germs than it is about motivation--I think that's a whole separate issue. Often, I tell Maya, "You can go play outside in our [fully-fenced] yard by yourself. Mama can't go outside right now. But you can, and I will watch you through the window." Needless to say, this isn't a very ideal suggestion for her, since she wants to play, and play with ME. But one of the endless issues that I deal with is either a type of depression, agoraphobia...

...or I'm just plain and simply a fat fuck what won't get off the couch,

or else I'm just a lazy ass,

but all I know is I suck for a plethora of reasons. A cornucopia, if you will.

Anyway. So those were my two first reactions to Dar's "rebuttal" to my Hygiene Hypothesis post: Agreement, yet at the same time, a little pain.

But she is right. She has a life, and can't spend all that time worrying, like I do. Or, more accurately, she just doesn't spend all that time worrying, because she doesn't have a mental disorder. See, she's lacking one crucial thing:

She's not

.

I joke. I joke so I don't cry. Tears of a clown, and all that shit.

No. Not that clown.

No. Not that clown either. Jeez, you guys.

(Can I interrupt this regularly scheduled program to tell you all that I HAVE MET TIM CURRY IN PERSON? OK then. Back to bum-bum germs.)

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So, while Dar may basically agree with me on a lot of points, the thing is, it doesn't occur to her in the same way it does to me. She might go to a friend's house and not notice if the friend washed her hands before starting dinner. She might let her kids play at the McPlaguePlace and keep popping over for more bites of fries before heading back into the tunnels, without using hand sanitizer three times in a row first. She might go for a walk and let her kids pet the neighbor dog, then go home and just keep playing without needing to wash first. She might, sin of all sins, wear shoes in the house. ;)

Because while she knows good hygiene, and agrees that handwashing is very important, things don't occur to her like they do to me. I can't even say things ever even do "occur" to me, since the thoughts never left in the first place.

A couple of her quotes stood out to me:

"Yes, washing your hands is good. Yes, it's clean and I advocate it strongly for everyone. But to the point of compulsion? If I see a compulsive tendency popping up in my kid, taking care of that (provided they don't have a mental block that predisposes them to compulsions in general) trumps hand washing."

The only "good" thing I can say about my OCD is that I don't compulsively wash (or make my kids wash) in the way people imagine most OCDers do. I don't wash 12 times in a row. Once is fine. I don't jump up off the couch with the sudden and random compulsion to wash. I wash at what I think are very appropriate times. So I'm not one of those people who washes compulsively, except...I don't know what else you'd call it. I guess you could say that I DO have a compulsion to wash. Just not until my hands bleed, or in the middle of the night, etc. So thank goodness for that, anyway.

Then Dar said:

"They really haven't lived in a bubble, and that's okay. I'd rather them be sick sometimes if it allows them to live a little."

That's also where she and I differ. I'd prefer ANY option over my kids getting sick. This is the obsession, the constant worry, the all-consuming fear I can't get over. And  another of her quotes really got to me deeply:

"Mental health is as important as physical health."

She hit the nail on the head with that last sentence. That's where I struggle to find balance. Because I believe strongly that there are bajillions of horrible germs on the toys at the Children's Museum, I can't let my daughter play there without having an extreme panic attack. And I'm not giving my daughter a chance to play, explore, learn. So I don't know what to do--how to balance it all? Go to the Museum anyway, at the expense of MY mental health, just to make my kids happy? Or keep them home, where I feel safe and clean, at the expense of the richness of their lives?

Obviously, the answer is, I need to find a way to NOT feel terrified and horrified by taking my kids to the Museum. Win-win. Kids play, I feel fine. But it's the "I feel fine" part I'm working on, and trying to find a fix for.

Because months later, many visits to the doctor later, and all MANNER of medicinal nonsense later, I'm still where I started. Living in a bubble and keeping my kids chained in there too.