Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Serious Tissues


If you've ever wondered what that bulge in my front pockets were, I can tell you, it's not because I'm happy to see you. Well, maybe I am, it depends on who you are. They're actually something much more special. Much more precious. Much more...two-plyed.

Yes, dear friends, if my love of Glenn Miller, "I Love Lucy" and "Golden Girls" re-runs, and my driving ability weren't enough, the fact that I feel absolutely helpless without a tissue would solidify the theory that I AM, in fact, an old lady.

I don't really know when this became such an obsession. I guess because too often I can recall situations where I was suddenly struck with a runny nose and had no way to help it. I can clearly remember one incidence in middle school in which our class was in the middle of some big test; the kind they didn't even allow you to get up from your seat once it began. I was fine up until I was about halfway through. My nose felt cold and suddenly I realized my nose was runny (you ever get those kinds of runny noses? Where the mucus is body-temperature so you don't realize till you feel it get cold on the outside of your lip? Sorry, too gross?) I tried to carefully reach into my desk or pockets for a tissue without drawing attention from my teacher. As my nose continued to run, I became more panicked, suddenly hoping to find something, ANYTHING that might help me not look like "that kid": the kid in your class that looks disheveled and messy, and might even have a certain odor. I was petrified of being labeled "that kid." When I had searched every pocket and every crevice in my backpack, now not even caring if the teacher thought I was cheating or not, I was forced to use my hand by pretending my nose was just itchy. That, of course, made it worse. By the time the test was over, I had become more concerned over my nose than my score, and had lost pretty much all concentration. I tell you, I might've been in Harvard had I just 1 damn tissue with me all those years.

It still took me a few years to finally choose need over style, and so I'd simply stuff each pocket with a fresh tissue. Anytime I spotted one of those cardboard cubes anywhere I'd take a tissue, whether I really needed it or not. Of course, at times I would still be caught unawares, and would therefore have to rely on desperate measures. Here's my quick run-down of tissue-like back-ups...

1.) Toilet paper- Probably the most obvious second-choice paper product. Easily accessible, usually still soft on the nose, and flushable. However, unless it's a good quality brand you are likely to end up blowing your nose on your hand, anyway.

2.) Napkins- Again, depending on the brand, could be soft and sturdy enough. However, usually not-so kind to the nose and because they are usually thicker it's difficult to stuff one in your pocket.
3.) Paper towels- Not kind to the nose at all. Not flushable and not pocketable. But will get the job done.

4.) Sheet paper- Yes, I do mean an actual piece of notebook lined paper. And yes, at one particularly desperate point in my life I have used this. Aside from the obvious negatives...like it can cut your nostril and oh yeah...its GROSS...there is a way to use a piece of paper to wipe your nose. You just have to know the method to my madness (and this was actually taught to me by someone. I forget who, but if you're out there and by some miracle actually reading this, God Bless You). Take the single sheet and crumple it up into as tight a ball as you can. Unravel it and repeat. You basically continue these same steps at least 6 or 7 times, and believe it or not, the paper begins to take on a cloth-like feel. I was quite amazed at the transformation. By crumpling it up over and over it begins to breakdown. If you have the time (or interest) I highly suggest trying out this little science experiment.

Anyway, sorry if this was a gross one, but I think you got the idea. So the next time I am around you and I sneeze, instead of saying 'Bless You', try saying "Tissue?" My jean pockets, my purse, my laundry dryer, and I will all thank you.

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