rhapsodic.org

Evidence of Being a Girl

I've never been accused of being a girly girl. I am definitely girlier than most of my family (most, not all), but that really isn't saying much. I wear makeup less than ten times a year; I do not brush my hair every day; I poke dead animals with sticks; I spit; I pick my nose; I eat it.

Not really.

The girliest activities I partake of are painting my toenails, planting a garden, and shaving my legs when B complains of rug burn. And the whole menstruating thing, guess I should count that.

Things that gross out or frighten other girls do not bother me. Getting a truck stuck? Cleaning a fish? Petting a snake? Chasing a wasp? Mouse in the house? Jellyfish in your eye? Skinning a black bear? Bring it. I will roll my eyes far into my head at your squeamishness and throw accusations at your "so-called" Alaskan citizenship.

But. I have met my match.

B calls it a junebug, but this thing looks nothing like the pictures my internet has shared with me. Oh no. This thing, it is not of this world, not of our Lord's creation. It has these... talons. Yes, that must be what they are. Large Talons that curl in front of their bodies while they wreak havoc on our peaceful little planet.

The depths of Hell hath rejected it, and thrown it into my path to convert me into a GIRL who hides behind the couch screaming at B to GET IT GET IT DAMMIT I AM SO SERIOUS GET IT.

I have goosebumps just thinking about it.

It buzzed in my ear a bit, sounded like any other peaceful, nature-loving bug or bee. But then, THEN, he had to say it. "Oh look, a junebug."

I jumped out of that chair and behind the couch faster than B could turn a page in his book while the Bug Of Hades fell down behind the speaker in the corner. I commenced with the yelling while B looked behind the speaker and proclaimed he "saw nothing."

Liar.
Safe behind the couch, I made him move the chair and the speaker so that he could get it because he was not taking me seriously, and I would totally take the dog and move, leave him to fend for himself against The Bug With Large Talons. Our wedding vows said nothing about my having to put up with The Bug With Large Talons.

He sicced Lacey on it, and before I could let loose a wail of terror and grief she had drowned the thing with her slobber. It took a few more tries, but she finally pierced its heavy armor and swallowed it in two pieces.

Reason #532 to own a dog: protection from The Bug With Large Talons.