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I used to believe that the ridges on the roof of my mouth spelled out "MADE IN JAPAN" just like the words on the bottom of my doll's foot.
When I was in the 7th grade my best friend told me something he had believed when he was little. He thought your Adam's apple was a little bucket on a track. Whenever you swallowed, the bucket filled up with food at the back of the mouth, went down, and dumped it before going back up ready foor the next load.
I used to believe that one foot was better than the other. The sheets on my bed were always messed up in the morning because my feet had been fighting during the night trying to prove that one was better than the other.
My dad and the guy next door had both lost a finger in separate accidents before I was born. I remember thinking that all men, when they reached a certain age, had one of their fingers fall off.
i used to think that when people said their legs fell asleep it meant that their legs were actually getting rest, so when mine fell asleep, i would try not to disturb it.
When I was very young a friend of my mother would come to visit. Her leg had been amputated and when she would drink coffee I waited with great anticipation thinking that the coffee would drip out any minute.
My mom has always painted her nails the exact same color red. When I was a kid, I thought they just grew out that way on ladies, and I always wondered what color mine would be.
When I watched a horror movie on HBO as a kid (namely Alien or The Evil), my stomach was very knotted. I figured that it was because my stomach could view the movie as well, so I would stand behind a chair to shield my stomach from the horrible scenes.
Being a kid and knowing that everything had to be plugged in to work, i.e., TV, radio, etc., I went through a phase where all I did was try to find where I plugged in to the world and got my power. The best I could figure was that I had plugs on my feet that hooked into the ground, but every time I jumped they hid. I never could figure out why my plugs hid though.
When I was young, I used to drive around Canada's country-side with my grandfather. Both my brother and I would complain about the smell of cow manure and my grandfather told us "take a deep breath boys, it's good for your lungs". So everytime I smelled manure, i would take a deep breath to help my lungs get stronger.
I used to think that the shoulder blades were actually "back breasts".
when i was little my mom told me my big tow was for balence. I took this very literally. i fell out of the car once and when my mom saw she asked, "Jessica, did you loose you balence?" Through the tears I said, "No mom," looking down, "I still have my big toe."
When I was about 8 or so, I heard that sharp blows to the head caused memory loss and possilbly brain damage. I would sit and whack myself in the head with sticks and fists and then ask myself a set of questions... what's your name, where so you live etc. and try figure out what I'd forgotten. What crucial information for my later development was contained in those vital brain cells we shall never know.
My mother told me that if I coughed too hard my lungs would flop out. So you must put your hand in front of your mouth to stop them otherwise they won't go back in again.
I used to believe that your bottom teeth were actually in your bottom
My friend recalled this childhood trauma:
One evening, after her bath, my friend noticed something in the mirror. She screamed and cried, and when her mother came in to see what the matter was, she exclaimed that her bottom was broken. I imagine it was difficult for her mother (through the hysterical laughter) to explain to her what a butt crack was.
Since my father had a deep cleft in his chin, I thought he was growing a tiny buttocks out of his face.
Once, at the age of about four or five, I tried my mum's face cream on. She burst into the room and said that I would now grow breasts! Being a boy, I didn't want this! Believing her, I asked her to take me to the doctor, but she didn't. I have never touched my mothers face cream since.
I have a red colored birthmark on my arm. When I was little, I asked my dad how I had recieved it. He told me that when I was even younger I had been eating and smeared some jelly on my arm. He had supposedly warned me to go wash it off before it stained, but I had not listened. As a result of not heeding his advice, I had a permanent jelly stain on my arm. I believed him.
i used to believe that bras were bullet-proof vests for women.
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