Roasted or fried chicken. Something about the strong smell just whips my brain into anger and disgust. I can’t think, talk or smile once I smell it. Especially in a enclosed space.
Roasted or fried chicken. Something about the strong smell just whips my brain into anger and disgust. I can’t think, talk or smile once I smell it. Especially in a enclosed space.
Ya I would never be able to reclaim it for myself. For my whole life it was used only as a strong negative.
It’s the same for my wife and queer. It’s a word she can’t use to describe herself without thinking of old mystery books. “Well that’s quite queer”
When I was in middle school a friend of mine used to dress up and call herself a gypsy. Due to where we live, we didn’t know that word was tied to a real life culture. We thought it meant fantasy-like hippies.
Years later I found out the actual meaning behind it and freaked out. Sadly I wasn’t still in contact with her by that time, or I would’ve told her. Though her parents would’ve complained about it…
A park set in a old-growth forest with the rides built around the trees. Shaded and wild feeling. Waterslides and rapids would be extremely fun.