My Special Talent

If you know me in real life, you would know that I am full of irrational fears. Like swooping birds who try to poke my eyes out. Like cream based condiments. The contents of The Daily Mail. You know, regular stuff.

And due to my age and my status as a mother, I also fear sneezing. Which is not very good, particularly this week, as I am currently being ravaged by a nasty cold that I received from my youngest son, thanks to a direct hit cough to my mouth.

I fear sneezing for two reasons. One, the obvious danger of pissing oneself (Clenching as I type, work you damn pelvic floor. Why have you forsaken me?). And the other reason is the fact that when I sneeze in public, I get judged.

For you see it is not a little delicate ket-chew that is omitted from my person. It is more like the thundering roar of a V-8 screaming around Mount Panorama. I have tried, god knows I have tried, to retrain my sneeze into a more ladylike fashion, but it is nigh on impossible. So I remain sounding like a freight train and frightening bystanders.

It is socially awkward to have a sneeze like mine.

Why, just last week an indecent occurred which I will try to re-tell in a way that might emit sympathy from you, towards my situation.

I was with my Podcasting partner Mrs. Berry and we were in “The Tardis” which is a studio in the spy-scandalous building of our National Broadcaster the ABC. We were waiting to cross live onto Radio National’s Life Matters, as we have been identified as women of wisdom and knowledge developed enough to dispense advise of a segment called The Modern Dilemma.

Shut up. We totally know stuff.

Anyway, our host started off the conversation about holiday houses and families and stuff like that when I felt the familiar tingle in my nose, announcing the arrival of an impending nose blowout.

This is live radio my friends.

As I started gripping my nose with one hand and flapping the air with the other, Mrs. Berry looked concerned.

Live radio my friends.

“Are. You. Farting?” she mouthed at me. My eyes began to water. I was about to sneeze one of my super-turbo charged emissions straight down the microphone.

We both started to panic. We both lost track of the conversation.

“So ladies, what do you think?” crooned Michael McKenzie

DOH! Neither of us had heard the question due to immense panic, Mrs. Berry because she thought I was letting flatulance rip and we were in a very confined space, and me as I was talking myself out of a sneeze. So I pulled out the old chestnut that I save for such occasions.

“It’s a really complex scenario Michael. What do you think?”

SAVED! Although now that I think about it, we haven’t been invited back….

So in closing, can I ask for your sympathy as a loud, aggressive sneezer. It is not that I am trying to put the fear of god into you, it is just the way I was made.

Now I must away to the chemist, for the School Musical opening is tonight and I need to be heavily medicated.

Have you managed to avoid being crook so far this Winter?