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 I haven't timed it yet, but this is pretty close to what my "Your Body Speaks" Toastmasters speech is going to be.

     I have one true fear. One that paralyzes me to the point of tears. It’s a fear my friends and family don’t understand. I absolutely fear anything touching my eyes. Yes, it’s a pretty silly fear. Yeah, your eyes don’t really feel it when you touch them, but I know they’re being touched and I don’t like it. Because I know it’s a pretty silly, bottom of the totem pole kind of fear, and because I want to overcome this fear, I’m going to tell you the ridiculous story of my first – and only - experience with contacts.
When I was 12 I asked my mom “Next time I go to the eye doctor, can I get contacts? Glasses are pretty annoying and they get dirty. OH! I want colored contacts! I want my eyes to be gray! That way when I look at people…….it’ll be kinda creepy.” And all she said was “We’ll see.” Even now I think that answer is so mom-ish. 
The next time I went to the eye doctor, I was deemed “mature” enough to get contacts. I was 12; of course I was mature enough. Geez. I went through the whole spiel, 
     “Better 1? Better 2? Better 1? Better 2?”
     “Two…”
     “Okay. Better 2? Better 3? Better 2? Or are they pretty close? 
     “Yeah...they’re pretty close”
     “Good. Better 2? Better 4? Better 3?”
     “…yes…”
Once that ordeal was over I was ready for the awesomeness that I thought was contacts. The contacts guy, Hal, took me and my mom into the back room. I sat down and wait for the contacts. But first, my eyes needed measured. 
     “I’m going to put this up to your eyes and measure the.”
     “’Kay…“
(Mmhmms and dial noises)
     “Okay. I’ll be right back with your contacts.”
     At this point, I’m still excited so I sat calmly in the chair oblivious to the true horror that was about to come. Hal comes back a couple minutes later with white contacts case containing a right contact lens. “I’m only going to put the right contact in so you can see how it looks and feels with a contact in.”
     “Sure! …wait a second. You’re going to put it in? Why don’t I get to put it in?”
     “It’s better the first time if I put it in and take it out. That way you’ll do it correctly in the future. Now tilt your head all the way back so I drop the contact in.”
     “O…kay…” By this time, I was skeptical. I mean, I was 12. Like I needed another reason to think adults hated me. But I figured ‘Hey, he’s the contact guy. He knows what he’s doing. He’s a professional. (tilt head back, put finger above eye and Jaws theme toward my eye) Every time he got too close I scooted down further in my chair. Pretty soon, I couldn’t scoot any lower. And that was when went in for the kill. With the contact on his right forefinger he held open my eye with his left thumb and index finger and popped that sucker right in my eye. I thought I was going to die. And then the feeling passed and it was actually kind of neat. Hal left me alone with mom for a couple minutes to get used to the contact. 
(Left eye/right eye squint ‘Super clear…super fuzzy….super clear…..super fuzzy) “It was actually pretty neat. But there was no way I could go through that kind of gut wrenching fear every day so I decided against contacts. Then Hal came back in.”
     “So what do you think?”
     “Uh-uh. I don’t want them.”
     “That’s fine. We just need to get that contact back out so just tilt your head back and I’ll-“
     “No.”
     “What?”
     “You are not putting your finger in my eye again.”
     “Sarah Lynn, stop it. It doesn’t hurt. Just tilt your head back so Hal can get the contact out.”
     (starting to cry) “No I don’t want to.” At this point I’m starting to think they’re going to hold me down and take the contact by force and what happens if they miss and take my whole eye out, too! All I can say is I’m really glad Hal has daughters. If there’s anything a dad hates, it’s seeing girls around his daughters’ age crying.
     “It’s okay; I don’t need to get the contact out myself. Just lean forward and cry the contact out.”  
     I do better than that. I slide from the chair onto the floor on my hands and knees and continue to bawl. (pop) I couldn’t believe it. The contact actually came out. We left Spec Shoppe that day, me: a teary mess; my mom: pretty annoyed. And so the score continues to this day: Sarah 0, Contacts 1.
 
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