Even though I am on the cusp of middle age, I am averse to sticking my hand into dead animals’ body cavities. Let’s say I’m a little OCD. Okay, a lot OCD. I should own stock in Germ-X. My grandfather got a hen to bake for dinner. It was my duty to clean and bake it. The only problem was the sticking my hand up its hindquarters part.
When I got ready to cook it I told my husband:
“I may need you in a few minutes because I’m not sticking my hand up this chicken’s butt.”
So, after a few minutes of having a nervous breakdown I called for my husband-
“I need you.”
But then I gave myself a pep talk, did some deep breathing, and plunged in.
“That’s ok. I did it. Woo Hoo, I’m a big girl.”