Tomatos
I also have a fear of tomatos, I have to check everything to make sure there is no tomato in it.

Mind you, in this case it's not an irrational fear...I'm allergic to tomato and have been since I was 24 (9 years ago) and it's getting slightly worse as time goes by...;time was it was just fresh tomatos that did it..nowadays i can't eat Pizzas, can't eat Spag Bol, can't east lasagne, and the only tomato ketchup I can use is Heinz or Tesco's own..guess they don't have much real tomato in :D

Actually; thinkign about it, it's not even really a fear, more an aversion..because to be honest, I used to love tomato, and Lasagne and Spag Bol were among my favourite meals.

May as well just ignore this answer really..LOL
(Asharin Stabby stab stab, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 10:09, 2 replies)

White Cider
I cannot drink white cider, this stemmed from a binge drinking night out as a young teen, and I spent the night drinking white cider and vodka.

I spent the next two days being sick, and lost quite a bit of weight.

Though for some reason I'm absolutely fine with Vodka, just white cider that I cannot drink, and that it smells and tastes exactly like puke.

Also I have a fear of my own imagination, you know sometimes when your mind wanders and you dream about things you want, or that you have.

Me, I think about the deaths of my family and my friends, and the emotions I'm thinking about seem to come through onto my face in the real world. Though I guess it must be quite funny to watch someone walk down the road looking like he's just seen a ghost.
(Maccy Divided by 0 on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 9:56, 5 replies)

stairs
not stairs in general, just certain types.

the ones that have no risers between the steps. if i can see through the stairs to what is below, i feel dizzy and sick. i avoid these sort of stairs at all costs.

when walking down stairs, i absolutely must be able to hang on to the handrail or again, i get dizzy and disoriented. i also need to look down at the steps as i go.

i'm not real fond of spiral staircases either. fire drill evacuations in the office are a nightmare for me. the constant change of direction as we make our way down the stairs makes it seem like a spiral and the need to look where i'm putting my feet slows me down. 18 flights of utter despair for me.
(chameleon61, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 9:40, 3 replies)

Has to be
those really hard bristley brooms on a concrete floor. Teeth on edge and nipples hard (not in a good way).
( moogy boobles, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 9:28, 3 replies)

I'm scared of skinheads.
I have aggrophobia.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 8:55, Reply)

And now my own "dislikes"
Wooden forks (horrid dry things; but I oddly (as others have noted) have an urge to bite really hard on them - revenge?)

Finger and toe nails being broken. Theres a bit in a Wilbur Smith book where a Zulu is hanging off a cliff by his finger tips and falls...it mentions nails in there.

Spiders. 'Nuff said. I wouldnt hurt one, but by christ I hate them. This is probably my nearest Phobia.

Man Made heights. Mountains Im fine on, but a tall building and I get very nervous.

War of the Worlds (as a kid). The Jeff Wayne version, man it scared me.

Dentists (getting much better)

Hearing pulses/heartbeats, especially my own.

Dry feet. I hate it if ive walked bare foot on some carpet and my feet go all dry and shiny.

Sand on my feet. Christ thats vile (probably linked to the above)

Edit: Touching Polystyrene, the noise it makes when you rub 2 bits together. And squeeky balloons.

Edit#2. Clowns can fuck right off too.

Im sure there are many more.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 8:37, 3 replies)

Clinicians Hat time
Im loving this QoTW, Ill add my own fears in a bit. Being pedantic though a lot of these things listed aren't (as the into says) Phobias in the clinical sense, but just dislikes. A phobia needs to be:

A phobia (from Greek: öüâïò, phobos, "fear"), is an irrational, intense, persistent fear of certain situations, activities, things, or persons. The main symptom of this disorder is the excessive, unreasonable desire to avoid the feared subject. When the fear is beyond one's control, or if the fear is interfering with daily life, then a diagnosis under one of the anxiety disorders can be made. (Wikipedia).
(kitescreech still here, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 8:30, 4 replies)

Construction sites
OK, so perhaps not so much a phobia as just plain flashback-terror...

I’m an architecture student. I still have 2 of the seven years to go, but I think it’s a fair bet that once I finish, visits to construction sites will be a not-unusual occurrence. It’s quite a shame, then, that I am now fucking terrified by the lot of them. Allow me to explain...

Edinburgh uni: starting my undergrad all those years ago. Now, for anyone who’s ever lived in/visited Edinburgh uni Pollock Halls, you’ll know of Chancellor’s Court. For the uninitiated, it was a new building of student rooms within the halls of residence campus. My first year in the uni was the first year it opened and, compared to the other halls around it (of which I was a resident) it became a shining beacon of upper-class nobery. I shit you not when I say Edinburgh Uni is, in actually fact, twinned with Sloan Street. Ok, I shit you a little, but it’s not far off the mark and every single rah-rah 18 year old in tweed with rosy cheeks and a bmw seemed to get grouped into this one building.
Now, for you and me, student halls will conjure up images of sterile but somehow cosy corridors of endless identical doors. Grotty kitchens and every wall coated in that school-toilet paint-fleck stuff that everyone seems to have been expose to. Not Chancellor’s Court.

Here’s a picture of normal halls (the view isn't bad to be fair): http://www.maths.ed.ac.uk/or41/talks_v26t/pollock_04.gif

Here’s a picture of Chancellor’s Court: www.edinburgharchitecture.co.uk/jpgs/pollock_halls_070209_aw01.jpg

Mother. Fucker. This building had it all. Every room an ensuite. Every room a double. Every room with fucking swipe card access and a TV provided. It had its own ‘private’ bar. It had talking lifts. And the best bit? Those corner glass boxes? Those were the communal kitchens. All mod cons and beautiful to boot. Bitter? Not a bit. :/ Anyway, when I was there it was just about to finish construction. I guess it had run over deadline because they filled the finished bits to 40% capacity at a reduced price to recoup some costs while they finished the lower floors.

Cue me and a friend coming back for a few drinks with some relatively normal people we had met out. We had our drinks and shared awkward silences as the others from the corridor discussed who had the most powerful ‘daddy’. *cringes* Right, says I, time to leave. I think it is important at this point to point out that I was wasted. Ok, perhaps not entirely accurate: super-fucked may be a better phrase. Now this building is big and pretty confusing to navigate, so I had to ask for directions to the lift. “Go out the door and turn right, then left, then left again”. Cool. So I go out of the door and turn left. Twat.

I get to a door with stairs beyond. Fuck it, thinks I, it’ll do. So down I go, wobbling all the way as I clumsily try to send a text before my battery dies. I count the floors, 2nd, 1st, ground – ok! I open the fire door and go through, swearing at my phone as it figures out if it’s going to send the text or not. About half a second later I notice that this doesn’t seem like the reception. For a start it’s pretty dark. I look up from my phone and notice the windows. They’re glowing from the lights outside. They still have factory plastic coating on. That seems to be the only light coming in. My gaze wanders around to see an entire open plan basement floor scattered with concrete dust, odd bits of scaffolding and fire extinguishers. Tits. We were drinking on the 1st floor. As I turn, the new high-spec fire door does that annoying new-door thing of slowly gliding shut before suddenly slamming to a close. Grr. Still, at least I didn’t catch my fingers. I turn the handle to open it. The handle doesn’t work. Why? Because there’s a fucking swipe card reader next to it and, as I’m not a resident, my card doesn’t work. I look to my phone just in time to see the power down screen. Arse burgers.

So there I was, locked in a basement level construction site with no phone and getting more drunk every second as the freshers promos started to really hit. I try the windows (the basement was at this stage on a lower-ground floor as landscaping was yet to come). They’re locked to only open 5cm. Left with no option, I open one that far, grab the top edge and jump, putting all my weight on it. *crack* Sorted.
Slipping through the window I reach the soil. Although, this being Edinburgh, it was now a slick of mud and sludge. Inevitably I slip. I slip and I keep on slipping. To say it was only 20m to the edge of the construction site is like saying the burglars from Home Alone only had to go upstairs. Seriously, I think builders spend their evenings setting up traps for any student thick and/or drunk enough to find themselves in a construction site at 4:30 in the morning. You name it, I slipped over it, fell down it, fell into it, broke it, stubbed my toe on it and – in the case of a pile of left over copper cladding – reached out to grab it as I fell and sliced my hand open. After what seemed like an unnecessarily long eternity I got to the edge of the site, only to be greeted by a 9 foot wall. The type with the diagonal timber bracing so you can’t climb it. Well, after many false starts and slippy encounters with near-shitting myself, I reached the top. Only problem was, I hadn’t really figured out what to do once I got that far. So I jumped down. Now, I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a drunk, mud-covered student jump from a 9ft wall. It’s not graceful. I started the motion of leaping then decided against it midway, turning around sharpish. Unfortunately, the first stage in jumping was to let go of the fence. Hence the cartoon-esque mid-air twist, clamber, wall/face drag then spine crunch as I hit the pavement. Luckily I was too drunk to feel all the pain, but I still have a lump on my lower back from that.

Finally I had made it. Just one humiliation left as I got back to my corridor and tumbled into a friend’s room. There was everyone – including the guy I had left in Chancellor’s Court about half an hour ago – all sitting warm and comfortable. As I opened the door they all turned from their film to look up at me: at this stage propping myself up on the wall, so drunk I was dribbling spit down my chin, leaving a smear trail of blood on the paint-fleck wall as I slowly slid forward, caked head to toe in a predator-style mud/concrete dust combo, and with window-coating plastic wrapped around my shoes mumbling something about ‘fucking copper’.

Now every time I go on site I can’t help but count the exits and plan the best escape route. This does not usually involve a 9 foot wall.
( thiswasmyclone, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 7:51, 1 reply)

also,
crocodiles. specifically, crocodiles evolving. they haven't for millions of years and they're still the perfect killing machines. can you imagine if they evolved? WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF THEY GOT THUMBS??? jesus. they are the pet of the devil.
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 7:45, Reply)

gaining weight
'cause i have an eating disorder. the thought makes me hyperventilate. and cry. and then break out in nervous hives.
woo!
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 7:44, 1 reply)

I'm scared of ravens


and typing errors.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 7:38, 1 reply)

cicadas.
I am afraid of nothing in life. Insects of all sorts are my companions - I see trillion-legged things go skittering about under my desk, and I shrug and tuck my feet up and go about my business. I once held a boa constrictor about my shoulders. Not a stereotypical girl at all! Even mice and rats are adorable.

But cicadas. God-damned fecking cicadas.

The best image I can paint for you is this: last summer, a friend of mine decided to go to the beach. I volunteered to accompany him. Said friend and I have a long history; to make it short, I'll just say that I own his balls. I've bested in him in verbal matches. I've straight-up bitchslapped the boy when he deserved it. I am the queen supreme of our friendship, and he has not doubted for one second that I hold the power over him. Except for that day at the beach.

That day, we arrived. We made our way towards the beach. And within thirty seconds of arrival, I came to the horrible realization that there were cicadas EVERYWHERE.

In the span of thirty seconds, I went from calm, controlled me to OH GOD OH GOD MAKE IT STOP. I was a twitchy, nervous wreck, shuddering, making jerky Tourette's-like motions every time I heard something that remotely resembled their shriek. I cowered, drew my arms in, held my bag up to my chest to protect me, but then every half a minute I'd realize that OH WHAT IF ONE GETS ON MY BAG OH FECKING CHRIST IT'D BE RIGHT NEXT TO ME HJSDFKJSDF and then I'd proceed to flail my arms away from me and shake my bag until I was convinced it was safe. Then I'd draw it in closer. Rinse. Repeat.

In addition to my bodily motions, I was also alternating between inhumanly high shrieks of terror, uncontrollable sobbing, and gasping, shuddery breaths that bordered on hyperventilation.

My friend, to his credit, defended me until a ride arrived (at the time, both our cars were broken down, and I had to call my father in humiliation.) He had his towel in hand, and, like a ninja, he TOWEL-WHIPPED cicadas out of the air if they approached. This helped calm my panic a bit. Of course, a bucket also removes a bit of water from the Pacific, so...

However, I will never forget the moment when he tried to reassure me, "Oh hey now, ariza, they're not so bad - look - " and he fecking PICKED ONE UP AND HELD IT OUT TOWARDS ME.

I will never forgive him that moment.

The kicker to the whole story? Last year was the time of the 17-year cicadas. For those not in the know, these buggers only come out once every 17 years, and they do so in absolute droves. I had never seen a cicada in my life before last year.

I do not think I will be in the area in 2024.
(ariza, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 6:08, 1 reply)

Fear of flying? How to get special treatment from airlines
I am terrified of taking off and landing, and quite honestly, I cry for at least an hour before boarding a plane.

However........when you check in, tell the clerk you're afraid of flying. It's noted.
When you get to the boarding desk, tell the clerk there. You will be allowed on the plane first.
Tell the cabin crew you're afraid. They will bring you alcohol.
They will check on you throughout the flight. They will bring more free beer during the flight.
Turbulence? Pffft......more beer, and the cabin crew will ensure you are ok afterwards.
Landed? You get off the plane first.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 5:45, 4 replies)

kneecaps
Probably not a real phobia, but I am ultra concerned that a passing car will tear my kneecaps off with its bumper. Not so much of a concern these days with the molded bumpers, but the old chrome ones with the sharp ends used to make me nervous.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 5:36, Reply)

The chronicles of me
Can't stand the thought of rubbing my gums (specifically top gums and teeth) against dry concrete wall. The only way to stop this is imagining rubbing my gums with very grainy sandpaper!

I can't look in mirrors incase something is different. Aaaaaaaaaargh. That keeps me up at night.

I also dislike needles. Hell, if I see a needle I cover my eyes and make funny noises. I squirm at the thought of needles. This was born from having anaesthesia administered at a dentists.
(Tyraen, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 5:35, 1 reply)

worms
I hate worms.
Slimy nasty little wriggling things, earthworms are the worst.
Only devil spawn have no faces or heads
(Rum Blumpkin, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 3:43, 2 replies)

Nothing normal
I have no normal fears. I have pet snakes and a tarantula, heights don't phase me, and public speaking is a breeze.

But there's a host of weird things that scare the crap out of me.

Mushrooms and dead crustaceans: anything that uses chitin as a structural protein gives me the willies. I can't touch them, and the thought of eating them will make me cry.

Talking trees: just scare the snot out of me. I've never been able to watch The Wizard of Oz, and I can't go in the gift shop of a Rainforest Cafe.

Rice Crispies: When I was 3, my mom poured me a bowl and said "listen, they're talking to you." I started crying and said I couldn't eat them if they were going to talk to me. Over 20 years later, I've never been able to eat them, or anything at all related. No Nestle Crunch, no Rice Crispie treats. Once, my boss's daughter found out about the fear, and put a single Rice Crispie in my mouth. I felt like I was eating a live bug.
(puttysan, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 3:23, Reply)

Amputees
For as long as I can remember, I've had an irrational fear of amputees.

Apparently it has a name - apotemnophobia.

I just can't stand to be around people who have arms/legs etc missing - my worst fear is me or one of my immediate family having to get something amputated. I've told all my close friends that if I'm in an accident and end up losing a limb and on a life support machine, I want it turned off. They also all know that if they ever had an amputation, I couldn't be their friend anymore.

At work, I had to serve a customer with one leg, and I completely froze, and just turned to my colleague and said "Rebecca, can you deal with this?!" and went off to gag in a fitting room.

I also hate being touched by foam - the only time I can bear it is if I'm wearing washing-up gloves and I'm cleaning the kitchen with a sponge.

Also, whenever I look at a kerb I imagine biting into it and breaking all my teeth.
(Pik3y shagged your dad on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 2:12, 2 replies)

Foam Rubber
I can't stand to touch foam rubber. I will refuse to sit on furniture that has just a thin covering of cloth because you can feel the foam. And when it crumbles the bumpies get everywhere. I was very upset when I found out what that the Muppets were made of.
My worst nightmare is being rubbed on by people wearing those giant foam sports fingers.
(Allieloopy, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 1:56, 2 replies)

Flying related phobia: Ears popping
Before my fear of flying emerged, I USED to be afraid of my ears popping. This one existed outside of planes as well - as in, cars driving up mountains. As soon as my ears would start to feel clogged from the change in pressure, my palms would get all sweaty and I would try to swallow deeply to relieve the pressure.

It was to the point where I physically JUMPED when it happened.

I think it stems back to my childhood - as these things do - when I had frequent ear infections.
(juliajuliajulia, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 1:50, Reply)

I have an irrational fear
but it's just a cheap knock-off of a more popular irrational fear.

It's a faux-bia.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 1:44, 2 replies)

Flying
I know this is a big one for many people... but I really am very terrified of flying. What's odd is that I used to be a good flyer - the fear only emerged like three years ago. And nothing even occurred to create it - it's not like I was in a near-crash or anything!

Anyway, that was a really inconvenient time to suddenly get an intense phobia of flying, since it was in the midst of a two-part flight. The stopover was in Philadelphia and I was seriously, seriously considering taking a 2 day long bus ride (Greyhound SUCKS at timeliness) just to get back to New Hampshire - instead of the 45 minute long flight.

The worst was my anticipation for the six hour flight to London last year. I was to study abroad for a full semester, yet I was utterly convinced that I would die somewhere in the Atlantic. I cried the whole day before I left and cursed myself for ever thinking up such a ridiculous plot to travel overseas. This fear was so intense that I boarded the plane buzzing along on two Xanax - and was completely, utterly amazed and mentally unprepared when I actually LANDED in London. Mentally unprepared...as in, I walked around for a week saying "How the hell am I in LONDON?"
I truly, honestly believed that the plane would crash and I could never get there!

That flight toughened me up a bit, though I was still a little iffy on the Ryanair flights. I didn't like how all the stewards and stewardesses looked about 15 years old. Also, how they made us pay for drinks and whatnot. Then they tried to pimp off raffle tickets. I just didn't trust their ability to deflate the yellow safety slide.
(juliajuliajulia, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 1:38, 1 reply)

Wake up damn you!
I use a digital alarm which happily beeps away until I am annoyed enough to wake up. I can and do do this whenever I need to be up for a certain time. As do most smart people with devices of a time telling nature.

However, I am not a morning person. My body knows this. It *loves* to sleep. It gorges on dreams and soft pillows and lie-ins. It has come to associate the dreaded beeps with a venemous loathing as it anticipates the things it will be made to do once awake. Like walking about and moving...

As such, every time I so much as *think* I hear an alarm clock beep, I freeze. My skin crawls. My mind stops. Panic starts to seep in and I have to make it stop.

Make it stop! Agh!
( vix0r was not Matthew on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 1:14, 3 replies)

Moths
*shivvers at the thought*
they are made from the devil
( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 1:08, Reply)

Candiru
Stick with it till the end...

www.damninteresting.com/?p=797
(misanthrope is so adjective he's verbing nouns!, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 0:07, 3 replies)

I'm scared on standing in a jumping castle in Times Square
and being attacked by a fat man dressed as Marie Antoinette.

Luckily this is...OH DEAR GOD NO! NOT AGAIN!
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 23:57, 1 reply)

belly buttons
not me, my mad auntie. she's terrified of them! when my cousin was a baby, i was about to blow a raspberry on his tummy in that way that small children find hysterical, when suddenly, she comes flying at me, screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
i asked her what was wrong and she said "you can't do that. you. just. can't."
after 10 minutes of haranguing, she finally told me why i just couldn't: "you might touch his belly button."
i don't know if it's the button that's the problem or the thought of touching it, but you can't even say belly button near her without her having one of those full-body shivers.
weird bitch.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 23:49, Reply)

Why are you scaring me?
Orangutans.

Little ginger freaks. They know I'm afraid. They make that horrible raspy noise with their mouths. You can't hide. They'll climb and get you. They are smart. They know how to get you.
(CakeCat, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 23:47, 1 reply)

Buttons.
I know it's a really odd one, but I'm absolutely terrified of buttons. I hate them. I've been afraid since I was a kid. My parents always had to dress me in clothes without them, or I'd throw an enormous fit. I'm not as bad anymore; now it's mostly just detached buttons. Especially if the thread is hanging off the back. Eurgh!
(BlackArmadillo Avoided writing that article on, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 23:45, Reply)

That bit on the inside of your elbows
fuck me it really sends me creepy. theres a tendon there that has really sharp edges. my mate twangs his to freak me out. it has me crawling up the walls
(Snake (on a) Crane FKA thwack, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 23:41, 2 replies)