to help me get over my fear of heights
my sister used to hold me over the edge of the railing at lookouts. So basically over the edge of a cliff.

To accomplish this she'd have to go get me out of the car (I was so scared I wouldn't even get out of the car), pick me up, drag me, kicking and screaming to the edge and then hold the completely paralised misskitty over the edge. Once she gave up and pulled me back I'd lie paralysed on the ground until my dad carried me back to the car.

I've never understood why my parents didn't stop her, if she'd dropped me I would have died.

She did this from as far back as I can remember until I was 16 or so. She's quite a bit bigger than me (though I'm not so small myself at 5'10").
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 2:45, Reply)