Oh do come in, settle yourself into a comfy chair and let me tempt you to a jammy ring if I may! *
For I’m going to talk to you about embarrassment, which is quite odd, because I really do not understand embarrassment. Oh please don’t get me wrong, I do get it and indeed, I GET IT. I just don’t understand it. I’ve studied psychology and I know what embarrassment is from the point of view of a textbook. I know all the theories, I know what its purpose is and its role in our survival and perpetuation of the species. I suppose that what I really should be admitting to, is that I just don’t understand my own brain’s interpretation of how embarrassment is supposed to work.
I shall attempt (if you’ll allow me to impose upon the fragrant loveliness of your sacred time) to explain myself. So here goes. (I say “here goes” like we’re about to embark on some stomach churning thrill at Alton Towers, but I confess the reality is less violent, if just as vomworthy). But hey-ho and here goes anyway.
I have been more or less alive on this planet in some form or other for well over
thirty ok forty years now and yet I seem to get more embarrassed, more easily now, than I ever have done. Any sort of compliment (yes I know, hard to imagine) any sort of nice thing said or kind thing done and I get embarrassed and coy and blushy and stupid now whereas I once would have lapped it up, pausing merely to chide them at their “too little too late” approach to complimenting me.
I get stupidly, humiliatingly embarrassed now by quite silly things. Yet (and here’s the punchline) it is only if I am wearing clothes. Get me naked and I am a completely different person as far as embarrassment is concerned. Happy to behave as if I was the sluttiest person alive, happy to be embarrassed, humiliated, displayed, made a spectacle of, you name it, it is certainly no problem.
But clothe me and I cringe, blush, recoil in profuse shame and probably fart nervously too.
So what on earth is that all about dear listeners? What embarrasses you? Do you blush and cringe, more or less than you did a few years ago?
* For those of you who are far more anally fixated, I feel it only fair to tell you that a jammy ring, is merely a biscuit. A ‘cookie’ if you will. Now go and flagellate yourselves for having such sinful images in your head.