When I was about ten or eleven,
I developed and aversion to frogs.
With bulgy eyes and hairless skin,
they were the most disgusting
creature on the planet, worse than
bugs, mice, spiders, rats or snakes.
When I learned that in seventh grade
I would be dissecting a frog,
the thought made my skin crawl
and would make me physically ill,
enough to keep me up at nights
figuring out how to get out of it.
The inevitable finally arrived.
I was twelve and facing the
pale stinky frog with probe
and scalpel. But I found that
it was fascinating and not as
nearly gross as I imagined.
My first lesson in thinking
about something can be
far worse than doing it,beside housework.