I always sort of thought I was way too quirky. I mean, no one talked about these sorts of things "in person" while growing up (which is one excellent part of the internet, that people will share such things and make others feel normal!).
But now I don't feel so strange!
DH and I share oddities. Neither of us can touch, or think of touching, terracotta or anything that feels/"tastes"/we imagine feels like terracotta. So...brushed steel? Right OUT. It makes our teeth feel like they are being grated (gah!) to touch it. It's VERY helpful to share such an oddity, because no one ever brings home something forbidden!
And this isn't a grossout, but he hates sunflowers and I hate butterflies. And why yes we did have an August garden wedding!
Seeing someone curl their eyelashes.
OH good gosh yes. I never even knew such a thing existed until college, when I saw my roommate doing that! Every morning (or weekend evenings) while she did that maneuver I wouldn't move, speak, or barely breathe, I was so afraid for what might happen if I startled her.
When I was a kid, I used to tape ziplock baggies underneath our dining room table on the nights we had meatloaf. My parents always made me eat a piece, so I would slip it into the baggie when they weren't paying attention (even our dog wouldn't eat my mother's meatloaf).
If my mom were still around, she would have loved you for that solution. Not that they had such baggies in the late 40s/early 50s, but she would have appreciated your solution. Her dad always made them eat everything on their plate, and they always had some sort of red meat. And that made her gag to the point of throwing up. So just about every night, her dad made her eat all of her food, and then she'd run to the bathroom for the inevitable. Seems a big waste of food to me, and it explains why she was never much of a "eat it all" type of parent.
Back to grossouts...once hair is off my head, I'm done with it. Get it AWAY from me. I had a really wimpy vacuum cleaner once, and very long hair. So as to not kill the vacuum, I would have to walk around the apartment scooting my bare feet around in circles, to get all of the hair (my own hair) up, just gagging the whole time. But doing that was better than having to deal with it wrapped around the rollers of the vacuum!
Hair in playdoh is its own little level of Hades to me, and always has been. I have a very vivid image of sitting with my brother at my dad's place, pulling a hair out of playdoh, and hearing that horrid squeaking noise thing it does... DS got his first playdoh only at his 5th birthday because of that!
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