Oh, SNAP

I would like to admit something: you can hold a gun up to my face, cock back your fist a foot away from me, or visibly prep for a full roundhouse kick without me doing much of anything. I’ll watch you and probably think “oh shit…am I really about to get hit?” but as far as physical reactions go, it most likely wouldn’t be that dramatic.

BUT LET SOMEONE STAND ACROSS THE ROOM PLAYING WITH AN ELASTIC BAND…

I go berserk, bonkers, positively apeshit crazy. You will hear me say NO! NO! NO! so repeatedly and forcefully that you would think I was taking a self-defense class. It’s embarrassing and ridiculous and merely admitting it on my blog where anyone in my real life could see it and consequently threaten me with an elastic band puts a knot in my stomach.

Note: Just to clarify lest you think I’m a COMPLETE wimp, I’m not afraid of elastic bands themselves. I actually enjoy playing with them, and seeing one on the floor or a desk doesn’t cause me the slightest bit of alarm. It’s just when someone is holding it, stretching it, or….oh dear God, I can hardly say it…stretching it back and aiming it at me…I tend to lunge at them in an effort to save my dear life prevent a small sting from potentially hitting the sleeve of my shirt.
…
So there’s that.