Cry Baby

Screen Shot 2017-07-01 at 5.51.14 pmIs it just me?  Am I the biggest baby out there?  I think I have a serious issue.  I cry all the time. ALL the time. It’s like I have no control over the liquid that pours out of my eyes. There’s the obvious things – funerals, sad movies, baby ducks following their Mum, when you think you have half a bottle of wine and turns out you only have enough to half fill a glass, so fricken sad –  It’s normal to show emotion, I get that, but there are things that make me cry that are just stupid.

Bagpipes. What the hell? Bagpipes?!? Damn those nasally, droning pipes, they get me every time. Christmas Parades are a killer – it’s all lolly scrambles and tinsel until the bagpipes start a-wailing and those snare drums start ‘rat-ta-ta-tat-ing”. My daughter did highland dancing for a while and I was eternally thankful when she decided that she wanted to move back to ballet, as I was a weeping mess once a week as she flung her legs around the place in her tartan kilt.  I think some of the other mothers thought I had a strong aversion to tartan and knee high socks.

Then there’s the Haka.   Strong men chanting in Maori, stamping their feet, waving their arms and leaping around, not exactly tear jerking, but it gets me every time, even worse when its a group of school kids – holy hell!  I staunchly try to think of other things to stop the tears from brewing  (shopping lists, my sock that has rolled down inside my boot, that tooth at the back of my mouth that most definitely needs looking at…) but nothing will stop my eyes from filling.  I don’t know whether it’s the fact that kids are doing it or the whole spiritual background of the Haka itself? Either way I try my hardest to hang on  in there until that last ‘Hi’, and quietly congratulate myself if I can manage to sneakily wipe the tears away without anyone noticing.

Singing is another trigger.  Don’t get me wrong, I can listen to the radio without sobbing, but when people stand up to sing in front of an audience, it’s like a feel all their tension and my throat begins to tighten and I start to make that weird upside down smile, the once where you kind of pull the lips into your teeth and jut your chin out – not the most attractive of looks.  When there is a mass group of singers it’s twenty times worse – school choirs, adult choirs, church choirs, when internationally renowned pop stars reveal a massive gospel choir in the middle of one of their slower hits (don’t try tell me that when Michael Jackson brought out the gospel choir in ‘Heal The World’ you didn’t feel anything – you monster!).  Even listening to the kids sing high pitched, sweet, sappy school songs at my kids school assemblies makes me start blinking uncontrollably and try hard to find that kid that is picking his or her nose so I can focus on the spread of germs and the fact that they are still so young and blissfully unaware of how picking ones nose is reserved for private times – I see all your shocked faces, don’t judge me for being honest about the fact that I pick my nose in private – there are some boogers that will not come out with a polite nose blow, and you don’t want those suckers flying out at inappropriate times!

So, now we have all addressed the fact that I really am an over-emotional freak (who picks her nose in private – don’t worry, I wash my hands! Geez!)  and we all feel comfortable with that label – yeah, I’m good, I can own that – can we move onto the issue of just having teary eyes?! Too cold? – tears. Too sunny? – tears. Something funny? – tears. Windy? – tears. Like I said, it’s a serious issue!  I am constantly having to explain that I am actually ok and not losing my grip on life (it’s hard to make people believe this on a good day, so when I have tears pouring down my face, the struggle is real!).  To make matters worse, I wear glasses on most days, so if it’s cold, they fog up – like the inside of a beaten up 1984 Ford Laser on a winters morning…misty fog takes over the lenses and I can not see a thing. If I happen to have contacts in then there’s a high risk of one just getting washed away in the waterfalls that pour out of my eyes.

My mother (who, interestingly, has similar issues to me – now we know where to throw that finger of blame! – although I don’t recall her picking her nose, we’ll give my Dad the credit for that bad habit.) used to say that my bladder was too close to my eyes, maybe she was right?  Maybe this is an issue that needs to be addressed?! An unusual medical case?! Or maybe Frankie Valli was wrong all along, and big girls actually DO cry. Either way, I have no option other than to follow the advice that Justin Timberlake gave me (yes, I believe he speaks to me through song) back in 2002, and cry him a river daily.

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