body parts

My aunt had told me when I was about 5 or 6 that if you pressed your belly button your butt would fall off! I was terrified for years of anybody getting near my stomach.

I used to believe that in order to get rid of bangs (fringes) you had to shave them off. It never occurred to me that you just had to let them grow out. Unfortunately, I realized this AFTER shaving my bangs off!

I used to believe that when you thought really hard little white mice would run around your brain. I think this came from my mother saying whenever my dad was doing the accounts that the white mice where working

When I was born, a friend of the family made me a blanket and gave me a teddy bear. I carried these with me every moment of my life until I went to kindergarten. The bear often required minor stitching from Mom "to keep his beans in," as she said. Well, I thought humans were filled with beans (that is, polystyrene pellets) too, and if you broke your leg, beans would come out too. (Blame my fear of breaking a leg on my ballerina sister.) Consequently, I developed a fear of walking down our spiral staircase, lest I slip through the stairs and fall to break my leg and spill my beans all over the floor.

I have 2 little moles, one on each ankle, and for years I believed that everybody had them because when god finished making you,(sewing you up) that was where he cast off.

When I was little and I would eat or drink something that would make me choke my mom always said that it went down the wrong pipe. I figured that there were 2 pipes from my throat to my stomach. One was for food and the other was for drinks.

My grandfather used to stick his thumb in his mouth, blow hard, and his biceps would bulge up and 'inflate' and he would say "see I have big muscles whenever I want". So I used to get caught with pins, knives etc, carving away at my thumb till it bled, trying to punch a hole right through to my bicep so I could have big muscles too. My other grandad had a finger missing and I was told that his muscle operation went wrong cause he tried to do it himself, so I stopped doing my own surgery after that...

I used to believe that a 'skinhead' was not a racist, but somebody with a shaved head (it made perfect sense at the time).

When I was 5 my uncle took out his false teeth. I thought that everyone could take out their teeth. I spent the whole summer trying to find the switch in my mouth that would let me remove my teeth.

For a longer time than I prefer to admit, I believed that if I couldn't see someones eyes, than they could not see me. Combine this with my love of spying on my neighbors, and the result is me standing in a largely open yard, my eyes covered by a few leaves of a tree branch, looking like quite the bizarre child.

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.

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.

My pediatrician used to tell us that our belly buttons held our butts on. He said he had a whole box full of spare butts, so when a kid lost his belly button, he wouldn't have to go around without a butt.

When I was a kid I thought that your tonge went all the way down to your stomach and just spred out in a toung like plate in your torso. And that food just sat there for a awhile.

I used to believe that my belly button might come untied and I'd deflate and die. For years I was always looking at my belly button and freaked out crying if it ever looked weird in anyway. I was always getting yelled at in class for sitting with my finger in my belly button all day.

When I was 4 or 5 years old, my dad wore a mustache. Sometimes my sister and I would get up on the weekends and hang out in my parent's bedroom with them to watch cartoons. Occasionally, my dad's mustache would be missing. He always told us that it fell off while he was sleeping. We would look all over the bed, under the pillows, etc. trying to find it. It wasn't until I was about 10 that I realized that he got up in the morning and shaved before my sister and I had gotten up. I hadn't thought about too much before then, I just accepted it as a fact that mustaches could fall off at night.