Big (on) top

OPINION: Ugh. I keep looking at that big top up at the Gala St reserve and listening to the ads on the radio about that circus, writes Sarah McCarthy in this week's Uptown Girl.

The ads almost had me. Roll up and see acrobats and stuff. Sounded good. No animals locked miserably in cages. But then they said the word that made me change my mind. Clowns.

I was never one of those children with an aversion to clowns. I still remember the Great American Circus – I think it may have been somewhere odd, like at the Star playing fields on St Andrew St, and it was a huge circus with the works – acrobats and tight-rope walkers, plate spinners and of course clowns.

I was even picked to go up and help with a clown's trick and I wasn't at all fazed. But now – not so much. And I'm the kind of person who could talk to a dummy for hours – hell, I'm married. Ba da boom.

No, I mean ventriloquist's dummies and puppets – I could cheerfully chat away to any old stuffed animal as long as someone had their hand shoved up its back making it nod. But clowns, yeah, that's not such an appealing concept for me anymore.

There's something about their painted faces and the huge greasy red grins that set my teeth on edge.

My list of fears is growing. Flying, dinosaurs, papercuts, spiders, big moths, basilica-type buildings, empty streets just before dusk, underground car parks, flickering street lights, mascots, you name it. And now all sorts of sensible, adult fears are creeping in there as well.

Dying, falling over in a short skirt, becoming so fat I can't get on a plane, global warming, redundancy, mortgage payments, the new Information Ministry, accidentally getting addicted to P, drunkenly lapsing in my vegetarianism, 2012, being technologically retarded. Tsunamis. Being kidnapped and nobody wanting to pay the paltry ransom. The usual.

God, it's like I've been watching Fox. Is it a natural reaction to the coming of winter? A natural reaction to a National Government? A natural reaction to impending middle age? Have I been reading too many stupid, stupid, stupid books? (Stupid stupid. I read the Twilight Saga. Again. Again again again. Okay? And got busted by persons cool. There, I said it. And I don't care. I also love Lucky Break magazine, and Pick Me Up and Chat. And That's Life! Anything with the headline "My paedo ex is now a children's entertainer" is worth my $2.95. "My lover made me pretend I was his daughter ... to his wife." You can't make that stuff up.)

But at least I don't let my fears run my life. I'm not quite washing my hands a thousand times or counting when I walk. Okay, so I do that, but everyone counts their footsteps, don't they? Or the Men In Black will come and take you back to the space ship for some probing and then line dancing. Duh.

» Sarah McCarthy is a Southland Times staff member.

- © Fairfax NZ News

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