I consider myself to be a fairly fearless woman.
I face challenges head on, I relocate big spiders outdoors, I am good in an emergency, and I teach 8th grade.
However, when I was 10, the movie “Poltergeist” came out, and it was the beginning of my love of horror movies.
Yet, it was also the beginning of my fear of both clowns AND dolls.
That scene, in the thunderstorm, with the clown at the end of the bed…yeah, you know the one I mean.
That scene completely did me in for the rest of my life.
The clown thing, I’ve learned to live with.
I mean, let’s be honest, you don’t often run into a clown in the street, and you can choose not to be where clowns will be present.
But dolls?
That’s not so easy.
Dolls are kinda everywhere.
And I think we can all agree that porcelain dolls are the worst.
The. Worst.
—–
When I was in high school, my handbell choir went on tour to Virginia.
My BFF, Kim, and I were roommates, and host families would put us up for the night, in each town we visited.
So, one night, we finished our concert and got in the car and were driven to this lovely couple’s home.
The woman opens the bedroom door and, on a shelf, that went all around the room were about fifty porcelain dolls.
Watching me.
So, what’s a polite teenage girl to do?
I smiled and said thanks, and as soon as she closed the door, turned to Kim, who just said, “Yeah, I know.”
And then Kim, in the way only a high school BFF can do, let me share her twin bed, and held my hand until I fell asleep.
—–
When I graduated from college, I used to housesit for a few families.
The first time I went to one of the houses, the woman was giving me the tour and when she got to my room, she opened the door and said “I hope you don’t mind sharing the room with these ladies!”
Two guesses as to what was seated on the bed, the rocker, and shelves on the walls?
Yup.
Porcelain dolls.
Watching me.
I was an adult now, and owned up to my fear, and the woman looked at me a little strangely, but said, kindly, “Well, I’ll just put the in the armoire while you’re here,” to which I blurted out “NO! Then they’ll be mad at me!”
Not sure how I didn’t lose that job, but for the next few years, when I housesat for that family, I slept on the couch in the family room.
—–
Over the years, my porcelain doll phobia has grown to include porcelain figurines.
They just creep me out, and don’t ask me why, because I don’t know.
But they are right up there with clowns and porcelain dolls.
Last week, I chaperoned my daughter’s handbell choir tour.
And we returned to Virginia.
After the concert, we met our host families and I was paired with a truly lovely woman, who was in her 80’s.
We drove to her house and I sat with her, in the kitchen, and chatted, while she had a glass of wine.
I enjoyed our conversation thoroughly, but I started to feel tired and decided it was time to hit the hay.
She said “You’ll he sleeping in the basement, it’s this way,” and then began to lead me through the, previously unseen, rest of the house.
Are. You. F&#*ing. Kidding. Me?
In an effort to not be rude, I asked if I could take pictures of all of the figurines because, my mother was into porcelain.
This may have been a teeny bit of a lie, but photographic evidence was a necessity.
So, I took the pics, went downstairs and immediately text Kim, Erin, and Michaela, who respond in the following way:
Because adult BFF’s are not as supportive as high school BFFs.
Probably because they have 30 more years of dealing with my BS under their belts.
So, I finally climb in bed and lay there, eyes open, for, what felt like, hours.
I knew they were out there…right on the other side of the door.
Waiting.
Watching.
But, in the morning, I woke up and all was well.
I mean, except for the texts from Kim, Erin, Michaela and Real Man.
‘Cuz they’re all reaaaaaaaaaal funny.
