Instead of June Bug. I wasn't being as literal as that sounded.
Ugh. Is there anything worse than a June Bug? Oooh. They are So gross. They give me the chills just thinking about them.
Plus, I'm still traumatized from when that wretched June Bug attacked me while driving at night.
Ok. That is Scary. Neither The Grudge nor The Ring can compare to that.
Ok. You know me. And you know that that's not entirely true.
I did in fact live through the June Bug.
Scary movies? We're still not sure about.
Speaking of that incident though. And the screaming aspect of it. And the fact that I wasn't feeling myself. I continue to believe I am having an identity crisis.
Possibly, the stressful nature of motherhood has in fact stolen all of my sanity and in reality the worst of it is a lost mind and a trip to the looney bin.
But, out of my innate Well of Optimism I choose to blame the sudden onset of multiple personalities on an Invasion of the Body Snatchers type scenario.
My newest piece of evidence is suddenly I have become a Hand-Talker.
You know, those people who talk with their hands? Those people that illustrate every small, insignificant point with a wave of their wrists and some demonstration with their fingertips you don't even understand.
In fact, I'm pretty sure I've lost the ability for people to follow my conversation at all due to the fact that they are cross-eyed and dizzy from trying to keep up with the nonsense my non-verbal body language is attempting to make.
And people, it was pretty iffy BEFORE I threw my hands in for props.
I don't know what is happening.
Have I suddenly just reached the point of Vanity where I feel that it is necessary to defend each sentence I say with a gesture using both arms, both wrists, ten fingers and an unnecessary display of upper body strength?
Or have I just forgotten who I am all together?
Very possible as we all know I have the worst memory known to man-kind. A theoretical walking early onset Alzheimer's patient.
Is that even possible?
I forgot I'm not the person that uses their hands to talk. I'm the person demonstrating verbal gymnastics in a way that takes the art of communication to an entirely different level: both confusing and backwards all the while you're wondering if we even speak the same language.
But somehow that wasn't enough for me.
For some reason I feel the need to demonstrate how important I am by the use of finger flicks and hand circles.
I know a little bit of Sign Language. I might as well throw that in while I'm at it.
Granted, it's mostly Baby Sign Language and a few Christian Camp Songs. But heck, while I'm making an ass out of myself I might as well entertain all walks of life.
Including Zoo Gorillas and Chimpanzees that speak Sign.
And don't get me wrong. I am never offended by a person who speaks with their hands. Let alone get all judgemental with them.
But I feel like Speaking with Your Hands is a born trait, something passed through the generations or learned from a parent.
If you're a non-verbal communicator, that is exactly who you are. You can't change it. You don't even know it's happening.
I'm a totally different story.
I'm throwing in the Curve Ball at the end of the game. Nobody's ready for it. I didn't even know it was coming. And suddenly I'm nailing the batter right in the head and sending him to the emergency room.
(Um, what do you think of my Sports Analogy? Pretty interesting.... Huh?)
(You should ask me to demonstrate it for you while using my hands. Pretty much, sit back and wait to be entertained!)
So anyways. Here I am. Not a Natural Hand Talker, flailing my arms, wiggling my fingers and looking like an idiot.
I'm a regular Jazz Hands Fiesta.
And nobody is getting it.
In fact, I'm so self-aware of the problem, the whole time it's happening, in my head I'm thinking "Stop swinging your arms! Who do you think you are? Careful, you almost whacked that kid in the head! Ok, that's enough, seriously, stop. You're embarrassing us. Ok. Stop."
But I don't stop. My arms have apparently stopped listening to my well-meaning brain along time ago and are developing this whole other break-off personality.
I don't know what to do. I've got to stop.
I mean, what if this rebellion spreads? What if the rest of my appendages take on different personalities and suddenly I can't control any of them.
Like my shoulders start shrugging. My hips start dancing. My eyes start winking and my knees start shaking!
This could get out of control!
Then again. What if my feet suddenly decide to become Runners?
Maybe this isn't such a bad thing after all.......
Who is Rachel?!?
Rachel Higginson is the author of The Five Stages of Falling in Love, Every Wrong Reason, The Star-Crossed Series, Love & Decay Novella Series and much more!
She was born and raised in Nebraska, and spent her college years traveling the world. She fell in love with Eastern Europe, Paris, Indian Food and the beautiful beaches of Sri Lanka, but came back home to marry her high school sweetheart. Now she spends her days writing stories and raising five amazing kids.
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im a hands talker. i use my hands while describing things for people over the phone at work. and i think, "if only they could see my hands, they would understand what i am saying"... crazy train.
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