Sunday, May 20, 2018

I Can't Pick My Nose...

All my life, I've never really been able to simply sit down and pick my nose.



No, seriously.  I can't.

Now, I know that this topic may be a bit ooogy to some people, and if so, I advise you to simply move along to my next post which will likely be about something cute the kids did or some other silly aspect of my life, because frankly, I really need to vent a little bit about this one.

You see, my problem isn't one of squeamishness or distaste.  I don't hate nose-pickers.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have some sort of fetish for nose-picking or anything.  And I don't particularly have the desire to spend inordinate amounts of time in the excavation of a perfect...er, booger.

Seriously, I think picking your nose is just as gross as the next guy...or mom, really.  (Because, lets face it, more moms complain aobut their kids picking their noses than dads, unless of course you're sitting in church or at a family function.)

No, my problem is more about the fact that I CAN'T pick my nose.  I truly and honestly can't...and you know how people get about being denied something, right?

Go ahead.  Tell your kids they CAN'T do something...pretty much ANYthing, really.  Within 24 hours, practically guaranteed, they'll be trying to sneak around you to do that very thing.  (Unless, of course, you just get silly and try this sort of reverse psychology to get them to eat asparagus or stewed tomatoes.  Kids aren't THAT dumb.)

But WHY, you may ask, can't I pick my nose like the rest of rural and backwater America?  (And some of you middle to upperclass Americans too...yeah, you.  I see you there behind your screen, picking while you think nobody's looking...)

Its a question of size.

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

No.  Not the size of THAT.

Rather, it's about the proportionate size differential between my fingers (which are, I confess, rather large and broad) and my nostrils, which are in contrast, VERY small.  (A fact that my wife LOVES to tease me about, btw)


A quick anatomy lesson:
Even though the nose is generally considered an outer part of the face, (most likely because its usually the first part of the head to get smacked when playing Dodgeball or in a fist fight), the human nose is actually composed of both the external structure and the inner nasal cavity, which is divided vertically by the septum and runs from the nostrils to the pharynx.  The blood vessel network inside the cavity moistens and warms air that's going to enter the lungs.


Got all that?

Ok.  But it's really not that important, or rather, it certainly wasn't to me when I was a kid.  All I knew was that no matter what I did, my fingers just never really fit up my nose properly to allow a good, ol' fashioned nose-picking.  I mean, I saw my friends, and heard the stories, and frankly, I never got anywhere near the satisfaction that some of the other kids did with what little scraping and poking my fingers could do from the outside of my nostril.

Oh, come on now.  What?  You've never picked your nose?  Never enjoyed the sense of achievement and relief at finally getting that itchy bit of irritation out of your nose while no one else was looking?



Oh.  And let me stop for a moment and be clear about something.  I'm not talking about being ok with booger-EATERs.  You guys know who you are and yeah, I'm just as grossed out as everyone else at your choice of delicacy.

Ew.

But back to what I was saying earlier, I suppose you could say that I have nostril envy.  I mean, I've got friends and even family that have nostrils you could drive a Cadillac into.  I'm sure they have NO problem whatsoever picking at anything that's bothering them up there.  Granted, this may be a classic example of the grass being greener on the other side of the fence...well, of something being greener, in any event...and I'm sure that they probably have complaints about having a nose that's too large.  Perhaps sunglasses don't fit properly or they can feel the breeze when the wind blows up their nose.  I don't know.

What I do know is, that while I'm sure the thrill of being able to clean out my nasal passage with my own finger rather than with a tissue or a Q-Tip would likely pass rather quickly if I had the ability, sometimes...just sometimes, when I look up at the sky at night and see that first star, I'm tempted to wish...

Starlight.
Star bright.
First Star I see tonight.
I wish I may.
I wish I might.
Have the wish I wish tonight...




Aw, who am I kidding?  I usually end up wishing that I could win the Lottery just like everyone else.

~Steve

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