Eeeeewww fish!

Nate and I are trying to find a hobby we both like. He is not interested in the things I like (history and museums and such), so I relented and decided to try to really learn to fly fish. I'm taking a fly fishing class this Saturday. Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I'm going to anyway. I'm a total pansy. The thought of fly fishing is appealing to me--being out in nature, alone, the serenity, the beauty, just you and the water and the fish. And catching fish is fun. But then there's the other part. The part that totally grosses me out--touching the fish. Getting the hook out of them is cruel, but that's not the part that really bothers me. It's touching the smelly, slimy fish. I know, I know. How silly is that? But it's so icky! When I admitted this to Nate, his response was that he's never considered me to be super outdoorsy. I know I'm no granola babe, but not outdoorsy? I mean, I'm no valley girl either. I LOVE camping (in an actual tent), even like sleeping right out under the stars, love being outside, love many outdoor activities. But I have to admit that when he asked me why I've never shown much interest in fly fishing in the 10 years we've been together, I thought aobut it, and decided it's because I don't like touching the fish. Seriously, that is one of the main reasons I don't like fishing very much. I even had to psyche myself up to put my bare hands in our fish tank this summer to take care of the fish while Nate was gone to Chicago. I know, I know. Nate says we can probably find me some gloves I can wear. Now that I can do. Gloves make me feel invincible. Like when I'm working in the garden--if I have no gloves on, I jump at every little creepy crawly feeling. HATE BUGS and CREEPY CRAWLIES. But with gloves on...I am the bravest little gardner in the world. Gloves would make me feel like the wonder woman of fishing. That's what I need--gloves.