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When I was young, irrational things frightened me. Scratch that--irrational things still frighten me (drive-thru windows of any kind, dancing, credit cards, etc.). Now I am reasonably comfortable with exhibitionism. I'm the storytime lady, for crying out loud. Once a week I put puppets on my hands and sing silly songs in front of 30-50 people. And I have no shame when it comes to singing--I sing in the car, when I walk around in the grocery store, waiting in the line for movies.

When I was a kid, it was an entirely different matter. Any kind of risk-taking seemed incredibly frightening to me. I used to watch my friends play video games for hours, but every time they'd try to hand the controls over to me, I'd just shake my head. I dog paddled in the water, holding my nose and closing my eyes every time I went under, and spent summers watching my friends dive from high diving boards. In high school, a bunch of my friends went to this indoor skydiving place. I tagged along and they humored me, assuming I'd realize how fun it would be once I got there. I stalwartly refused to give it a try so I became a sort of temporary goddess/hatstand as they draped me with their necklaces and bracelets and stuck their rings on my fingers. I watched them all float into the air, waving and feeling oddly weighed down by all that jewelry.

Interesting fact: even though I would never play a video game under normal circumstances, my friends knew they could count on me to beat the level bosses. I'd watch them try and fail over and over. When they finally threw down the controller in frustration, I'd cautiously pick it up and beat the boss in one or two tries.