• My freshman year of college, I had an Ed Hardy poster hanging in my dorm room above my bed.  In my defense, they handed it to me on my way out of the store. In the store’s defense, it was after I handed them the $7.99 it cost to purchase it.
• I talk to my mom on the phone so often that I have to deliberately coach myself not to habitually end conversations with, “Okay love you, bye” before I call my boss.
• One time, my ex-boyfriend was studying my face intensely as if he wanted to lean in for a kiss.  We locked eyes as he pulled me close to whisper in my ear, “You have a fuzzy face.”
• My co-worker and I were using my iPhone to test the functionality of our website on a smartphone.  It didn’t occur to me that when I opened Safari, the app would load my most recent search by default.  So now my co-worker and I both know: “How come raw cauliflower smells so mich [sic] like fart?”
• I’ve had expired turkey burgers in the back of my freezer for about the same length of time a U.S President can serve a full term in the White House.
• My family likes to reminds me about the time I ate four hot dogs at the beach as a three year old.  Since it’s only a vague memory to me, I’ve incredulously asked them, “Did I eat all the buns, too?” as if I’m half-expecting one of them to rationalize it like, “Oh god of course not, you were doing a lot of Crossfit back then.”
• When I drive in the rain, I get self-conscious if I notice I’m using my windshield wipers at a faster speed than other cars on the road.
• I wasn’t sure how to pronounce a close friend’s FIRST NAME for almost a year because I was too proud to ask her and afraid to offend her.  I introduced her to at least a dozen of my other friends during that time, but fortunately we were always someplace loud or crowded so I could mumble her name quickly and pray someone else would ask her to repeat it.  To this day, I don’t know if she knew what I was doing but was too polite to call me out.
• I tell chatty people at the gym that my headphones are noise-cancelling to give me an excuse to ignore them if they try to interrupt my workout.
• I get genuinely embarrassed singing in the car by myself when I imagine a judgmental serial killer crouched behind the passenger’s seat listening to me.
• When I went home for the holidays, I found my third grade diary at my parents’ house.  On a page titled Secrets, there was a single sentence written by me in lavender milky pen: “Sometimes I pick my nose and wipe the booger on an object.”  I don’t remember writing that, but I sure remember doing it.

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