Balloon Phobia

By January 15, 2009#Life

I have shared with some people my strong dislike (one may even say phobia) of balloons. I can’t say for sure, but I have a few theories on this.  I think it could stem from those games teachers made us play in school. Each child tied a balloon around their ankle and everyone chased each other around and tried to pop everyone else’s balloons while still protecting their own. I HATE that game. I always have. I used to poke the balloon, near where it’s tied, so it would leak rather than pop.
Or perhaps it stems from to a time before that even. I remember going to the circus and hating the sudden loud noises of the cannon (and balloons popping). It’s not the noise I dislike as much as the suspense leading up to it.
Which leads me to my final theory of the balloon fear.  Since my earliest days in nurseries, I remember having a distinct abhorrence of Jack-in-the-boxes. They scared me. All I wanted to do was listen to a really great song (gotta love ’round and round the mulberry bush’), but there was that looming dread of the sudden popping up of Jack.  I don’t like the ‘pop potential.’  It may never pop while I’m near it, but it might.  It’s like a ticking time bomb (or Jack in the box).  It could go at any second.  How do I know?

I just do not like balloons. The colors are fine. The concept is fine.  From a distance they’re fine.  But large balloons blown up so tight their skin looks like it can’t stretch any farther, and dust could probably pop it, are the balloons I live in dread of. In balloon nightmares I walk innocently along until I feel balloons looming just behind me.  They cast a colorful shadow on my joy because I never know when one might pop.

Oh balloons, why do you torment me?

Author Jill

Wife, Mom, Nurse // Super big fan of Christ. Amateur house renovator, Professional lover of food.

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