August 5, 2004

Why do stress or restlessness induce me to reveal the most inappropriate things about myself? It's mortifying, really.

Well, not really. More like ought to be mortifying, and well may be mortifying to others (although truly, I guess everyone has enough embarrassing tidbits that they're fairly generous about other peoples'...I hope...). I just don't seem to have enough sense to be shamed. There are few facts of my life I find truly and deeply humiliating, and those few items are probably safe from revelation. But pretty much everything else about me is liable to tumble out of my mouth at any time. My trouble is I have too high a shame threshold, especially when the disgrace in question is in the past. With the passage of time, most humiliation wiggles into comedy.

But really, for as much as I value privacy in the abstract (that is to say, as much as I hate gossip about me), I sure am willing to say whatever personal thing pops into my head in any old casual conversation. Maybe my subconscious finds it cathartic; I don't know. It's definitely annoying.

Speaking of restlessness, I have gained almost 5 pounds in the last 4 days. I really need to get off my fat ass and start exercising. Or at least quit cramming so much into my greedy food hole. I can only do so much with restrictive underwear. And even that can't help my doughy arms and ankles.

Speaking of my doughy arms, my new porterhouse tattoo is absolutely charming! It's still in its crusty stage, but it's past the dried-paint-cracked-up-Exorcist-face phase, very comforting. Within a couple of days, it will be pretty as a picture.

07.26.04