Once more with feeling…
[This was originally a guest post but have since got the rights back to publish in my blog. I thank Joe for allowing this.]
For those of us who desire to be more comfortable in our own skin but don’t have the courage to do so, writing is the next best thing.
When I started my personal blog, a few people told me I was being brave. I didn’t realize it then, but they were really telling me I was needlessly exposing myself to the entire world.
For a nude prude like me, showing too much flesh doesn’t come naturally. So why the sudden disregard for modesty?
To answer that question, let’s compare how I see getting undressed to writing for blogs:
1. There is supposedly an art to undressing; while writing is definitely an art.
2. Unbuttoning your clothing is like uncovering your innermost thoughts so you can prepare to write.
3. Removing your top is like getting rid of unnecessary mental baggage and putting it on paper.
4. Unzipping your trousers or your skirt is like opening up yourself and your life, and risking being scrutinized.
5. Slowly removing your undergarments is like slowly stripping away self-consciousness and the fear of embarrassing yourself, as you risk being criticized.
6. As you dance to the music and strut while peeling off each layer of clothing, in writing you silently peel away your personas and reveal facets of your more authentic self that you don’t dare show many people, sometimes even those close to you.
7. Being naked makes you feel vulnerable; but so does writing and disclosing your secret life.
So what good does exposing figuratively and/or literally in public do for writers? Writing is liberating and therapeutic. In the right place, so is undressing and being naked.
I quite enjoy writing and wish I did it sooner. I’ve been laughing a lot, sometimes almost to tears, reminiscing funny incidents that have happened in my life. I’ve also cried my eyes out, though not too many times, remembering sad and painful moments that are best forgotten.
I highly recommend it, writing I mean. I can’t say the same for getting naked, but you’ll surely laugh yourself silly looking in the mirror and seeing how funny you appear. Either that or you’ll cry your heart out dwelling over real or imagined imperfections.
My life, little parts of it at least, is now an open book, or should I say an open blog. So in my husky voice I dare say, “Look at me in all my naked glory – moles, scars, warts and all!,” while I stumble as I strut in my red stiletto shoes and pretend to be comfortable writing my life away.
P.S. I don’t really have warts. 😛