I have many memories of playing this in my younger years, not necessarily fondly. It is best played with a group of close friends, who know you almost as well as you do – sometimes even better. This works because whether you choose truth or dare, you end up confronting parts of your personality you thought were hidden, secrets you had yet to spill, tasks you would never do on your own.
There are many truths in my life. They are the things I do not consciously think about, but people probably do not know about me. And, since these friends of mine are not here, I am playing their role. They may not know the right questions to ask in order to make me blush.
I like the smell of yeast. Not bread yeast, but infections. This revelation came while I was training to be a veterinary technician. We would take care of shelter animals for the semester and I was always confused when the other students would be disgusted by the smell, so I asked what was so gross. Turns out it was yeast.
Sometimes, when I have not showered for days, I like to smell my armpits.
In my head, I am still eighteen. As long as I do not look in the mirror, I can maintain the delusion and act accordingly (although I will admit I do not make the same decisions I would have made when I was eighteen, but perhaps wish I had).
When we moved into our house, my cat, Captain Jack, became an indoor/outdoor cat. He used to get in fights, though he is neutered. I caught him walking funny one day and, rather than pay for a vet, I squeezed infection, pus, and blood out of an abscess in his armpit. It did not gross me out and he was fine.
There are days when getting out of bed is my worst nightmare. There are nights when I am afraid to fall asleep. Sometimes it is both.
The people I’m closest to where I live believe I will someday murder my husband. I have done nothing to deter their insinuations. It has even been brought up by our tattoo artist. I am not saying I could not do it, I just would not murder my husband. For the record.
Eleven years ago we ordered a Papa John’s pizza. We are still waiting on delivery.
I pretended for years I hated watching football, just so I would have reason to complain on Sunday. I still maintain this to a certain degree, but am no longer fooling anyone.
My brother-in-law is in prison and I am mad at him for it. He caved to pressure from his public defender and pled guilty to a crime I do not believe he is responsible for, but even if he was, the statute of limitations had expired by the time he was tried. I have not visited him since his incarceration. (After getting to know Jenniy, I find this embarrassing, but still cannot bring myself to see him until my anger is under control.)
This blog has been up for 3 years and I still have not found my blogging niche. If asked what my blog is about, I would not know how to answer. Like my brain, it is all over the place.
During my junior year of high school, I pretended to have a mental breakdown so my roommate would request a transfer and I could have a room to myself. Toward the end of the year, I was given a new roommate, whom I found was dating the guy I broke up with my freshmen year. Awkward.
I cannot stand to blow my nose – it makes my head hurt – so I pick it. A lot.
Popping pimples and ripping off dead skin is fun for me. I even do it to my husband and sometimes, when I get the urge, I watch YouTube videos of other people doing it. Also, I ask my husband to pop the ones on my back. Even when it hurts, I feel better.
At the end of the scary movie Mama, I cried tears of sadness. If you haven't seen it, I am not going to tell you why. Sorry.
I have a lot of hair. It is everywhere... except one place on my body. I do not have hair in my armpits.
When I was in sixth grade, I wrote a "novel". I was always (and still am) told I had talent, so I wanted to pursue a degree in English. I never made it to a four-year college, but I still dream of writing a book. The thought of writing a book terrifies me, however, because I do not think what I have to say is worth reading. I still have said "novel" in a box in my closet.
And one final one:
I like girls. And guys. I married a man, but will not rule out being with a woman. While I hate the saying “Love is Love”, I do believe people can choose who they wish to be with, regardless of societal opinion – except when it is illegal, like pedophilia and incest.
My Subject was: Instead of trick or treat, how about a game of truth or dare. Tell an embarrassing truth or have someone in your home assign you a dare and take a picture of you following through.
Submitted by: Baking in a Tornado (thanks, Karen!)
Go see all the talent!