Weird Crap That Freaks Amanda Out - Volume 2

Last night I was with a friend, and the two of us were primping for a night out. While I was searching through her iTunes for some funk music, she was getting herself ready. She mentioned that she had a burn on her arm, and I turned around to look. Just as I turned around, she ripped off her band-aid.

I almost threw up.

It wasn't the burn that caused me troubles, it was the band-aid. They are absolutely disgusting. The thought of skin being pulled by adhesive, and some little hairs getting yanked out in the process gives me the heebie jeebies. I think this quirk of mine stems from the large amount of time I've spent in hospitals and blood clinics. I can sit and watch the needle prick into my skin, the blood being drained out of my veins and then see all of the vials of my blood but smack a band-aid on me and I'm done.

Woozy. Fainty. Nauseous.

I've argued with nurses in an effort to convince them to let me go without a band-aid. Some of them refuse and tell me it's against the rules, plus you'll get blood on your sweater. I don't give a flying poop, I don't want an awful stickery thing on the delicate inside of my elbow. It just doesn't seem right. I will avoid the mark of the band-aid at any cost.

There is something else gross about used and discarded band-aids. Like the ones you find floating in pools. Or the ones that are dangling by one sticky thread off of the scabbed knees of kindergarten kids. Then there is that gummy black ring that they leave on your skin that can only be removed with baby oil and excessive scrubbing. If something sticks to your skin that badly, it shouldn't be there in the first place.

In conclusion, band-aids are nasty. I'm going to go have a shower and hope I don't scrape my knees anytime soon.