I frighten easily.
Perhaps that’s the wrong verb. What I mean by ‘frighten’ (I think) is ‘to be startled or boggled or disturbed to an excessive level.’
Or something like that. ‘Frighten’ is definitely more concise. It’ll do until something better comes along. (Kind of like most men, now that I think of it.)
I’m frightened by shoes (it’s not just me — google ‘scary shoes’ sometime). I’m frightened by small children. I’m frightened by birds (“They’re watching meeeeeeee……”). I’m frightened by Daleks (well, one of them, anyway).
Today was a first, though — I was frightened by hair.
I had gone down to the market to buy some corn. (Local corn. Or, at least, it’s local this year — last year it probably wouldn’t have been.) At the market there were (duh) people. There was my favorite math prof, there was a guy with a very demanding doggie, there was a guy who sat on a tomato (at least, I hope so) and there were women.
Lots of them, of course, but there were four in particular. This group of four was clearly together, clearly friends. They looked like four moms off to the market, more or less. They were four different shapes and sizes and builds (that’s about all I remember, except for flip flops) and looked nothing alike except for one thing. They all had the same hair.
Not ‘similar’ hair or ‘comparable’ hair or ‘that reminds me of’ hair. The same hair. Same length, same colour, same cut. It was as if they all had gone to the (same) hair-cutting-place and three of them had said “I’ll have what she’s having.”
There’s nothing wrong with that, of course; I’m not being judgmental. I just don’t remember seeing that before. It took me aback. It boggled me. It startled me.
It frightened me.
Frightened by hair. That’s a first, even for me.