Lord help me I went down the Face Hole

I read a quote the other day and was inspired.

"Do the thing you fear most and the death of fear is certain."
-- Mark Twain

As some of you may know, the thing I fear most outside of venomous spiders, shark attack, and department store mirrors is Facebook. So when I read Kate's post the other day about joining I tensed up and read on with awe. I admired her courage. I admired it so much I was inspired to join up myself.

And now I sit here filled with dread. The thing I fear the most about Facebook is not the axe murderers or even the advertisers. It is the *gulp* former classmates. I wasn't a card-carrying nerd in high school, mind you. I hobnobbed with representatives of most of the major social groups and strata. I was kind of shy and often hung back behind a more outgoing and charismatic friend. But I didn't get my head shoved in any toilets. And this is a good thing because I wore so much Aqua Net back then that my head would probably have stuck to the bottom of the bowl and I would have drowned.

I'm going to deconstruct my fear and lay it out for you (and myself) right here and now.

• One word: FAT. I was doing okay in the looks department until I got pregnant with Joe Joe two and a half years ago. I never have been nor will I ever be a Baywatch Babe. But I was working out. I had a hep layered and blondified hairdo. I could actually see my crotch in the shower. But here I sit two and a half years later with a jiggly chin and flabby arms. My butt looks like a sack of potatoes. I've got a Mother's apron flapping around below my navel. And my pregnancy-induced hypothyroidism is doing everything it can to keep me this way. That, and the red vines I can't stop stuffing in my face. Now we all know how people love nothing better than to see their former female classmates get fat. It's the basis by which some judge their status and worth as individuals. Forget the fact that many of us have beautiful healthy children and other various accomplishments under our belts. All that will matter when somebody first stumbles upon our Facebook page will be the way we look. And as much as I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter (and it truly doesn't), I hate the idea of some harpy sitting across the country viewing my photo and thus feeling smug and superior.


• Two words: ENERGY VAMPIRES. A few people I used to associate with are what I consider to be energy vampires. You know the type. They glom onto you and suck you dry. They are emotionally needy. They are dramatic. They are always going through a life crisis sponsored by yours truly. "This emotional breakdown was made possible though the energy contributions of Heather." They need need need and take take take, leaving you with precious little energy for your own family and personal endeavors. And it is understood that the debt is always to be forgiven—the favor never to be reciprocated. Please stay far, FAR away from me and my family. Words to the unwise: The Energy Bank of Heather is now closed.


• Oops, two more words: OLD BOYFRIENDS. I do not want to reconnect with you in any way, shape or form. I wish most of you well, but want the past to remain steadfastly the past. There's nothing to see here.


• One last word: WOMEN. I used to be a part of small groups of girls when I was very much younger. I was inexplicably pushed aside and rejected by some of said groups and thus the basis of my long-standing fear of and separation from other women was formed. I'm only now learning to get over that, and beginning to open myself up to other women and feel truly comfortable around them. All this talk of former classmates is bringing all that up again.

*Breathes out* There, I said it. Now let's do this thing and see where it takes us. And if it's not in a positive direction I'll be shutting down my page faster than you can say fraidy cat.