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Sample from Mouth Stretching, Brain Tumors and Butt Flexing
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News and Events
by Brian Weilert

My children, along with my wife, are a bit O.C.D.-ey/ Tourettey acting.  They aren’t afraid to admit it.  For example, my wife has this crazy, continuous habit of annoying me every day — bad joke, couldn’t resist.  My oldest son, when he was a baby, used to roll his wrist in a repetitive motion.  At first we thought something might be wrong.  We lived in North Carolina, and when we explained to the elderly, daycare lady we were concerned he might be autistic we were shocked by her response of, “Oh Honey, wouldn’t that just be great?”  After a brief pause she continued with, “He would be able to paint and draw.”


My youngest is agitated when things are not a particular way he thinks they ought to be.  He, too, has little quirks like eating all but a tiny bit of crust from sandwiches or pizza.  I stood as a stalwart of normalcy as I discussed these issues one afternoon with my mom.  Her response was to remind me, I was a weird little bastard.  She said, I may be normal now, though there was doubt, but she assured me this was not the case growing up.  Apparently, my offspring didn’t have a chance.


As a kid I had three habits that were repetitive and distracting.  Two were publically embarrassing to my mother and the other a bit hidden and confusing to her.    The first behavior my poor mother had to deal with was the mouth stretch.  I am not sure how it started, but once it did, I embraced it with the passion a horse fly takes in tormenting a sweaty, bald man’s head in the summer.  It felt so damn good.  I would simply open my mouth as far as I could, making sure to stretch the thin flaps of skin on each side of my lips.  This feeling was so gratifying I fear doing it today as I am afraid I could be sucked back into the vortex of ecstasy.  I warn you to not be lured into the siren song of the mouth stretch… you may never recover. 


My mom thought I had gone nuts.  This was back before the internet and Oprah, so she had no clue what was up with her kid.  She flat out told me it was weird and if I kept it up, she wasn’t going to take me out in public.  I promised I would stop, but we both lied; I didn’t stop and she still took me places.  Mouth stretching was my meth.  When winter rolled around and the air became dry, I developed seeping cracks on each side of my mouth.  The slits would crust over, but with each new stretch, they were torn open once more.  I continued to do this until I developed impetigo, a highly volatile, bacterial infection that spreads.  I soon had sores all over my face.  I was a vain kid, yet still I couldn’t stop.  My mom now not only had to deal with parading me around whilst I was looking like a baby bird in want of a worm, but she had the added shame of doing so with a scabby-faced, baby bird.  As an adult you love your kids, but no matter who you are, you realize they are an extension of you when being judged by others.  You shouldn’t care what others think, but you can’t help it. 


Try to make a good first impression to develop adult relationships when your bait is a sore-laden adolescent who literally can’t keep his mouth shut. I just stopped doing it one day.  I don’t recall the moment or what transpired to make me stop… I just did.


Mom survived this public shame only later to be introduced to the newest member of the family, My random head shake.  I was a bit older when I developed what I thought was a brain tumor.  I could actually feel something hanging lose within my skull. As a result, I felt the need to shake my head quickly from side to side, as if trying to produce sound from a baby rattle.  I would go a few minutes or so before I felt I had to repeat it, so I was able to hide it from people for a while.  Plus, I had long bangs at the time so I would work in a hair-flip to mask the habit.  Eventually, my mom noticed and wanted to know what was wrong with me… now?  I told her she should sit down and brace herself.  I then, as gently as I could, told her about my suspected brain tumor.    She took it well; in fact, she might have been smiling, a clear cover-up as not to show her inner pain.

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