By Heather O.
Defined as “loss or diminution of the ability to recognize familiar objects or stimuli, usually as a result of brain damage.” My own experience with agnosia has involved stroke victims, usually right hemisphere stroke victims, who don’t recognize parts of their own body. This really happens. It is truly truly freaky when somebody tells you that she is not sure if the hand on the table is hers or yours.
I’ve also seen people have finger agnosia, as well as arm and leg agnosia, with varying levels of extremes. Today, I must have had a stroke or some other massive right brain injury, because I experienced what is commonly known in the scientific community as Butt Agnosia. Extreme Butt Agnosia. Either that, or somebody else was naked with me in the dressing room at Target while I was trying on swim suits, but I just really don’t want to go there.
I don’t like swimsuit shopping. Really, not at all. At least now they have some cute suits that have those litte flare skirts that actually cover your rear end as well as any accompanying cellulite, but it doesn’t make it easier because you still know it is all there. And where will the agnosia end? Today the butt, tomorrow the tummy, next year the thighs, and before you know it, in 10 years I will want to introduce myself to that friendly lookin’ gal in the mirror with the saggy eyes and the wrinkles around her forehead who looks mildly familiar but I just can’t quite place her.
But since all of this mental deficiency is setting in rather early, maybe by then I’ll be so far into the realm of dementia that I will do just that: shake that smiling lady’s hand, and we’ll be good old pals. Me and mirror woman.
And truly, how much farther is denial from agnosia? I mean, once you are told that those yucky body parts really do belong to you, it’s just a hop, skip and jump into the land of “Nunh-unh”. And aren’t we all happier there, really? So once I get over my inability to recognize familiar objects, I think I’ll move there, the land of “Yeah, right.” Then I could still be friends with mirror woman but I could say stuff behind her back like, “Yeah, she’s a good friend, I like her and all, but I’m sure glad my butt’s not as big as hers. Let’s go swimsuit shopping!” See, now isn’t that better? I’m feeling happier already. Whose up for icecream?
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