Face My Fear? No, Thank You.

*Disclaimer: This is actually a pretty long post. It wasn’t meant to be, but I just couldn’t help it.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you’ve probably come to conclusion that I’m a very well adjusted individual with varied and sophisticated interests. (BAM! Spot on!) You’ve also probably noticed that I’m slightly quirky.

Hiding amongst my more endearing quirky habits and personality traits is something I’m a little less than thrilled about.

You see, dear reader, I am a huge baby.

It’s true. I am literally afraid of everything.

It’s not that I’m ashamed of my more traditional fears (heights, the dark, many-legged insects, clowns and Republicans just to name a few. Seeing Mitt Romney dressed as a clown would probably cause me to have a nervous breakdown).

No, it’s the slightly strange fears that embarrass me.

My fear of midgets is completely socially unacceptable. The terror I experience around stuffed animals with large plastic eyes keeps me from enjoying a trip to Toys R Us. But these are still tolerable.

It’s actually my biggest fear in life that is also the most embarrassing.

I am absolutely petrified of Zombies.

I’m not alone in this. There are many people who fear Zombies (and many more people that should!). And why shouldn’t we? Aside from the fact that they don’t exist (yet), everything about them is pretty darn awful. Don’t believe me? Let me educate you:

Top Ten Reasons to Fear Zombies:
1. They will probably infect at least a quarter of the population before anyone even begins to notice something is wrong and by then it will be too late.

2. They are only easy to kill if you have good aim or are willing to get up close and personal. Let’s be honest, a moving head isn’t that easy of a target.

3. Think just chopping off the head will work? Nope! As I learned from reading “World War Z” even just the head of an infected corpse can still bite. While you’re scanning the woods for moving targets, a head the size of basketball can just roll out of the bushes and bite your ankles.

4. They WILL infect your loved ones who will then try to EAT YOU ALIVE.

5. Even if it isn’t your loved one, being eaten alive would really suck. Have you ever actually been bitten by someone? A pesky nephew or a kid in daycare? It really hurts. Now imagine that x1000 when the thing trying to bite you is actually trying to take a chunk out of you.

6. It doesn’t matter at all if the attacking Zombie doesn’t have a chance to eat you alive. All it takes is one bite and then you’re not just dead, you’re undead.

7. They always keep coming. They are the one villain that never gets tired, is not restricted by daylight or water or missing limbs, and they literally cannot be stopped by anything except a crushing blow to the brain which, as I mentioned in reason number 2, isn’t as easy as they make it look in the movies.

8. They are attracted to smell and sound so there is literally nowhere to hide.  

9. If you buy into modern media portrayals (ie: “The Walking Dead”) they aren’t the slow moving, shuffling enemies of old. No, these bitches can move.

10. They are just really, really, really gross.

(For those readers that don’t really believe I am scared of Zombies, I want to let you know that I had to get up and double check the lock on my door midway through typing my list. You know, just in case. Zombies are terrible lock pickers.)

My most recent Media Related Zombie encounter shows a masochistic side of myself that I never knew existed. You see, I have recently started watching “The Walking Dead”.

It all started on Halloween when my friends were trying to convince me to watch “Paranormal Activity”. Since the trailer of the first “Paranormal Activity” almost made me wet myself, I agreed to watch an episode or two of the “Walking Dead” instead, thinking I was over my Zombie terror.

Now, I don’t know if this has become an attempt to prove to myself that I’m not a giant wuss (which failed) or if it goes deeper into the psychology of fear yadda yadda yadda. The main point is that, at the age of 25, I’ve been sleeping with my light on and waking my boyfriend up in the middle of the night to tell him that he needs to move because his apartment is “the WORST place to be in the event of a Zombie apocalypse!” (More on that later.)


This is my TV Dad. He’s a lot like my real Dad, though I think he would’ve let me join Gymnastics.

I just can’t seem to stop. First it was mere curiosity. Now it’s obsession. And to make matters worse I’ve actually become attached to the characters who seem to drop like flies with no warning. (No spoilers, please, I’m only two episodes in to season two.) Dale, the kindly white bearded 64 year old man who is just like my dear Dad is my favourite.

The problem is this fear is starting to cause problems in my daily living. I already mentioned my new problem with my boyfriend’s apartment, though in my defense it is a really terrible place to hide from Zombies. He lives on the ground floor with a giant sliding glass door right next to a hospital. Come on!

And there’s more. Ready for rock bottom?

I was walking to the bus stop a few days ago on my way to work in the dark at 6:30am after watching an episode the night before. I had my umbrella rolled up in my hand because it had just stopped raining when out of nowhere I spotted a figure up the road. A shuffling man was moving steadily towards me. Adrenaline kept me moving forward, and I unconsciously raised the umbrella to waist level in preparation.

It wasn’t until the figure began a slow shuffle across the street, away from me, that I realized what was happening. My intense glare faltered, the umbrella was lowered.  I had just terrified a poor old man out for an early morning walk.

Yup. Rock bottom.  

Despite this, I know I will still turn on Netflix tonight and tune into the next episode. I just hope my boyfriend’s neighbours don’t think he’s beating me when I spend an hour screaming with a pillow held up to my face like a proper adult.