The Mind of a Germaphobe

I’d like to thank my older sister for making me become a germaphobe. Ever since I was a little kid, my sister would always tell me not to touch this or not to touch that.

“Why not?” I would ask.

“Because there’s poop on it,” she'd promptly reply.

It basically came to the point where everything had poop on it, and eventually I became extremely wary of touching floors, walls, anything in a public bathroom, etc. for fear of contracting poop germs.

Seriously though, germaphobia makes doing some things extremely inconvenient. For example, just today I wanted to do some pushups in my apartment. I have an exercise mat, but it’s relatively narrow, so if I were to do pushups, my hands would touch the floor. This is completely unacceptable. Thus, I had to use plastic bags that I found to cover the floor where my hands would be. Ultimately, the sliding plastic made for some difficult pushupping.

I am also deathly afraid of showers that aren’t my own. I have only recently been able to stand in a shower barefoot, although it really depends on how clean the shower looks. However, I must avoid touching the shower walls at all costs, unless I want poop germs all over me.

Sometimes I feel bad when I need to help someone move something that is dirty or moldy or poopish, so I suck it up and help move said object. One occasion that comes to mind is when I had to help my dad move an inflatable dinghy. Unfortunately for me, it was very moldy since it had been sitting by the water. After such events, I must run to the nearest sink and wash my hands and arms and change my shirt (if it touched the object).

Some people may consider my actions “girly” or “wimpy,” but I’m willing to take such criticism if it postpones my next encounter with poop germs. Plus, I have become a lot less germaphobic recently, and I am now open to the idea of drinking out of a bottle that someone else drank from (but only if I’m really, really thirsty).