Or, the wonderful thing about irrational fears is that you don't have to justify them.

I have never been ice skating. I am afraid that I will fall, my hand will be on the ice, fingers out, and a skate will come along and, cleanly slice my fingers off. Blammo. I figure, ice skates are sharp, people are moving fast, and that the blade is angled such that it would just run right through the fingers, leaving them severed and twitching on the ice, a pool of blood steaming on it.

Whenever the significant other talks about skating, I just make a motion with my hands--one lying flat, the other going over it like an ice skate, and then a flourish simulating my fingers flying off.

Someday, I will go--I figure kevlar gloves, or possibly chain mail, will probably be safe enough.