I don't want a botfly colony in my vagina

If you're the type of person who digs weird shit on the Internet, you probably saw The Pickle Girl, she of the irrational fear and loathing of pickles. It got me thinking -- do I have any weird phobias?

I have some of the standards -- fear of commitment, fear of heights, hypochondria, but I have something far more strange and sinister, too. Fear of sleeping naked. It's something that, when I've shared a bed with someone who I should have by all accounts been comfortable sleeping naked next to, has been a problem.

Me: I have to put underwear on.

Naked Guy in Bed with Me: Why?

Me: I don't know. I just don't feel comfortable sleeping without something on.

The truth, of course, is that I do know why. I just don't want to tell the truth to guys who think I'm sane enough to sleep with. Obviously, the truth is I'm worried that if I sleep naked, I'm going to end up with an insect colony in my birth canal.

Now, I know you all heard those stories growing up about the woman who had to go to the doctor to have a seemingly-infected spider bite lanced, only to discover that the spider had, in fact, laid eggs in her pores and she was beyond infested. It's not true, of course, but when you think about all of the orifices where an insect could, if they wanted to, climb in and make you their own private nursery, it's cause for concern.

Okay, perhaps not real, legitimate concern. More like irrational, paranoid concern. But all I know is, on the occasions when I've tried to sleep naked, I've thought about pregnant spiders and ants and millipedes making their home in my girl parts while I slumber. And that shit freaks me the fuck out. So there's underwear. Always.

I just remembered that, at my first dot-com, a relatively new employee drew my name from the hat for our politically-correct-version of Secret Santa. (It was called SENDHOGG, and I don't remember what it stood for but it was annoying. Maybe someday I'll tell you about how we were only allowed to hire people who were SPICY.) He bought me the "Pop-Up Book of Phobias." Naturally, I loved it, but I was a little miffed at the time that a perfect stranger would deem that book an appropriate gift for me. Now? Not so much.