Curiouser and curiouser

Today I had to get blood drawn for some tests (nothing serious, just possibly an overactive thyroid, don't worry) and it occurred to me that I may be missing some of the crucial squeamishness my fellow humans seem to have.  I don't have a fear of needles or anything, but just the same, I looked away while she was drawing out of my arm. Then when she finished, I watched her cap off the tube and I found myself staring at it thinking, "Wow, that came out of me!" I was about to vocalize that, then I caught myself and kept my mouth shut.

Now, granted, I grew up in the company of nurses who had very little squeam about most anything the body can do, produce or remove. (Except for some reason that I find hysterical, my aunt MM finds it difficult to talk about lesbians. She can describe disgusting procedures to you in excruciating detail, but when it comes to a woman who prefers female companionship, she whispers and says that "she dances with women." It's like Mare Winningham's mother in St. Elmo's Fire who whispers bad things like "cancer" and "prison.")

I was also fascinated by getting my fingerprints for my teacher's license. I had to get them done at the state prison back home because I was applying for an out-of-state license and they had to get screened through the FBI (bad-azz, no?). I went into the room for the sheriff or whoever to do my prints and I couldn't stop staring at the dudes in orange jumpsuits- especially the little booties they wore. I wanted to ask each of them what they were in for. I think the fingerprint-man sensed my curiosity and scooted me out of there pretty rapidly.

I was at Convenient Care for a sinus infection once and there was a prisoner in the room across the hall from me getting a check-up or something. I waved to him when both doors to our rooms opened. He couldn't wave back because he was in handcuffs.