I consider myself a grown up. I am twenty-one, I have lived away from home, I have my G, I have a cheque book (blast this american spell checker! Cheque is a word. It means MONEY. A check is something completely different, like a spell check!), I love to grocery shop, and I am beginning to insist that all my footwear is supportive. These, I think, are very grown up things.
All my life I have lived in the illusion that when I am grown up I will no longer fall victim to... the giggle fit. I have realized, sadly, that this is not the case.
It was clear at 17, when my dad prayed for my girlfriends and I, thanking God for our friendship and asking that we would continue to "pursue each other", that we were not yet over the giggle fit stage.
It was clear when we were 19, with 6 of us cuddled in a massive snuggle pile while my friend's dad prayed, that we still had not yet overcome.
It was clear to me tonight, at 21, during a very grown up bible study, without even the support of my giggly girlfriends, that I am still prone to the attack of the dreaded giggle fit.
In order to understand how this fit came on, I must relay to you an incredibly sad story.
We have a family who are very very dear friends of ours. I call them aunt and uncle and their daughter is like a younger sister to me. Recently they went on a trip and left their dog and cat with Grandpa.
One night, Grandpa discovered that the dear dog had had an accident on his carpet, well, not just one accident but several. So he sent her out into the backyard, and got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed his carpets clean. When he let the dear dog back in, she was covered in mud from the yard. He patiently cleaned her off with a towel, but, neglected her legs. Moments later he found yet another mess all over his carpet. He put her out again. He scrubbed his carpet again. When he opened the door to let her in for the third time, he must have immediately known his mistake. Arrested by the strong stench, he was temporarily stunned as the dear dog rushed passed him to again desecrate his carpet, this time infusing it with the charming odour of skunk.
That same night, Grandpa's sewer backed up and flooded his basement. And who should get lost in the basement but the lovely cat? So in addition to dealing with the dear dog, Grandpa also goes wading in the basement with a flashlight to search for the cat.
Horrendous story isn't it? Yet they laugh as they tell it because apparently Grandpa is laughing about it, too. It's either laugh or cry, right? He says "Well, I might have to burn the house down to get rid of the smell!"
So. After story time we settle down to study time. I like being around people my age, but I don't feel uncomfortable with older or younger people, in fact I think it's important to socialize and study with varying ages. That being said, I am at least 30 years younger than everyone in our study group except for said friend-like-a-sister. She sits across from me.
We are reading the scriptures laid out. It is a deep topic. "The Great Apostasy". The scriptures are intense and require great concentration. We are taking turns reading the assigned passages and I look over mine as I await my turn.
2 Peter 2: 22
"A dog returns to his own vomit" and, "a sow, having washed, to her wallowing in the mire."
I press my lips together in a very thin line. I knit my eyebrows together. I bite my lip. I try to think about something else. I try to concentrate on the passage currently being read. I take a note. I lick my lips. I know my turn is coming. I must not look up at my friend across the room. One look at her and I will lose it. She is a kindred spirit. She will either know immediately why I look so pained or want to know and then all will be lost. It's my turn. I read the passage. The part about the dog and the sow is at the end, so I am able to feel the weight of the passage, and when I finally come to that part, I do not hesitate. I press on, perhaps speaking a little faster than usual, and... I make it through! I did. not. laugh.
The things I have discovered about giggle fits.
1) Don't start. If you start, you're done for.
2) Avoid eye contact. Don't even think about eye contact.
3) Think about something unrelated. Not something sad, because anything highly emotional could set you off at this point. Try to concentrate on what's going on around you.
4) They are not a sign of ditziness. I always associated giggles with being a little dumb or immature, but I recently read a book about a girl getting her MPhil at Oxford who openly confessed that she was prone to giggle fits.
5) Tell a kindred spirit about what made you want to giggle afterwards at an appropriate time, and have a hearty giggle about it then.
6) Forget what made you want to giggle in the first place so it doesn't come back to haunt you at an inopportune time... like during a sermon.
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