Masochism

I have this weird standard for my body. I like to assume that I'm the toughest, ever, and that my tolerance for pain is so high I can do almost anything. This has to be the explanation for why I order unnecessarily spicy food and why I just sit calmly when my head is on FIRE after applying relaxer. I honestly just want to blame swimming and be done with it (we had this thing called Mental Toughness Tuesdays, which was actually really meaningless in terms of athletic capability--at least for a sprinter--but did a number on your psyche), but I wonder if there isn't more. 

Maybe I just want to be extraordinary in something that I can actually control. My entire life I've been as smart as I've been tall (I've always been in the very top percentiles for height and standardized testing). But those things are more or less predetermined. Like, sure, you can study and whatnot, but I didn't actively try to do well on my standardized tests until I was a junior in high school. And anything physical is just as random as shark attacks or the roll of dice. 

So I'll just assume I really want to be good at something I can actually control. And preferably, something that everyone else sucks at or something that everyone else is scared of. Pain, then, is something I have slightly more control over than the fact that I'm somehow 5'11''. 

But I know pain is important. Pain tells you when something is wrong. I should probably pay more attention to when I'm in pain.

For example, yesterday I was doing my hair with a home keratin kit, and assuming that because it wasn't relaxer used by african-americans it should be weak and safe in comparison (one time my skin started dying from a relaxer application and I got an infection which led to a fever!). So I put way to much on and it spread to my neck and ears, where it began to BURN. But at first I paid no attention to it. But then it got onto my face, which was actually not very sensitive to pain... and then it got into my mouth. And I don't know how much acid you've drank in your life, but it's not a fun experience. Pain + a funky taste = panic. 

All of that could have been prevented had I simply admitted that I was sensitive to pain. But no. I also don't complain about freezing in the wintertime because I want everyone to think I'm insensitive to the cold.

Everything I do, then, pretty much sucks. I am a masochist. I think I've always known that. But it's starting to get annoying in my advanced age.