I have a problem. A quirk. A tiny little issue.
I giggle quite a bit. Over anything really. Sometimes this leads to embarrassing moments–times that bring a hot flush to my body and make me want to dig a hole and die. Other times, it is merely out of place. Occasionally, it is even appreciated.
When I heard how someone at work lost a family member, I was appropriately sober…until they just kept talking and gave the most ludicrous details about the accident. I forced coughs to cover the evil little hiccups of laughter that I could feel racing up from the very darkest depths of my diaphragm. My mind screamed at me that I was the most evil woman to ever walk the earth as I desperately avoided eye contact. “Bitch”–I could almost read it in their eyes.
As I clawed my way up the ladder in my chosen profession (“outlast the weak” is my chosen path), I found it necessary to sit in on boards and meetings and luncheons. Schmooze, pass business cards, have your one glass of wine and be a good girl, contribute thoughtfully, and all that. My facade of the eager young-to-middling employee was carefully crafted to present someone who wished to learn, exceed, and be in total control of their duties. A facade which dissolved into helpless giggles at my brain’s rebellion of awkward word association, occasional inappropriate jokes, and ideas that sound amazing in my head and rather farcical once they come out of my mouth. Happily, my work speaks louder than my giggles and I am deemed “eccentric”.
I giggle during sex. This will throw someone off, I have found, if they are not prepared. I try to let them know that it is a good thing and that, if they somehow bless me with a toe curling, wave crashing, earthquake of an orgasm–they may have to stop just so I can breath again! The terror of oxygen loss combined with the body rush and giggle fit just results in a mind-numbing loop of semi-terror and joy.
I giggle when I am nervous. When my friend tied me up the first time, I was desperate to giggle and desperate not to lest I ruin the tie (or worse, have the tie wind up too loose or tight depending on where my breath was at the time). I saved myself that time, but still giggle when the odd chance arises for him to throw some rope over me–because it just makes me feel so damn happy now–instead of full of jangling nerves.
I giggle when I have no other reaction I can think to give. I giggled madly at the sadist as he did horribly inventive things that I could not see to my back with his lovely needles. An experience I had never felt before, and you could not have gotten me to make an expected noise (as shown in movies) to save my life.
I am helpless to this demon. This thing that makes me sound a foolish schoolgirl at the weirdest moments; and I would refuse to have it any other way.