True Story

{February 19, 2010}   Whispers

True Story:  To the irritation of most people that know me, I CAN NOT whisper.

The truth is I am not much of a gossip and share all my personal secrets. So it doesn’t occur to me to lean in and whisper something. If someone walks in the room that is going through a nasty divorce, I am more likely to ask them how it’s going than to whisper about it.

This pisses Everybody off.


Pump:  That woman has awesome boobs.


True Story:  My only strong sense is touch. I can’t hear, see, smell or taste worth a shit. Hence, I can’t hear your whispering, mumbling, little voice.

It drives my dad crazy that I salt most of his dishes. The only thing I can smell and identify is garlic cooking and an occasional poop. Pump says the only way we can be together is because I can’t smell. Apparently, he has halitosis.

I have known some good smellers in my day. And I will admit I have experienced occasional jealousy of them, but most of the time I am okay with my nonfunctioning nose.

When people say things like, it smells like fluoride in here. I am like, WTF? Who knows what fluoride smells like. My friend, N, once had the smell of chicken soup follow her around for weeks. Fascinating.

I can’t explain why I can’t see, I just can’t. The ophthalmologist hasn’t found a major problem. But I can’t read road signs until I have passed them. I have been prescribed glasses several times over the years but never bought any. Naaa, who needs em.

This leaves touch. I have always heard if you lose a sense the others will strengthen. All I know is my sense of touch is strong. The only thing that will make me turn around and slap somebody is if they poke or tap me. And I LOVE massages.

True Story:  If you want to tell me in the middle of a party that “so and so” has been putting on the LBs, you better write me a note. Otherwise you might hear, “WHAT? WHO’S FAT”?

Laura says:

You are the worst at whispering!

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