Shhyyy! It’s a Secret!

In a blog I am following, the topic du jour was secrets. I tell ya’ – the comments were interesting.

I know they won’t mind that I share this, because we will never know who they are. Perhaps they are us and we are them? Or perhaps we are all the same? Or perhaps this has nothing to do with our lives? Still, it is relevant because the bottom line is: We all have secrets!

From reading all these “secrets”, I conclude that:

• Lots of women pee the shower.
• Lots of women have sex-secrets. Either they never had sex (and are ashamed of it) or they have had too much sex ( and are ashamed of it) or they have had sex with inapropriate people (bosses, cousins, coworkers, friends, girlfriends etc.) –  and are ashamed of it.
• Lots of women have hairy nipples.
• Lots of women pick their noses. Some roll the buggars into a ball, others fasten it to various objects (ie. under a table or on a wall), while others  – with brutal honesty – admit to eating it.
• Lots of women can’t poop in the vicinity of their boyfriends or husbands. Others can’t fart around boys, while one admitted that she -privately – rather enjoyed the smell of her own farts.
• Lots of women in relationships mastubate. Some even release the stress by giving themselves a quickie at the office rest room. In between meetings.
• Lots of women have sexual fantasies ranging from gang-bang, gang-rape to animal sex or simply hot-teacher/boss/older brother’s buddy-sex.
• Lots of women hate their in-laws. Mother-in-laws in particular, it seems.
• Lots of women shoplift.
• Lots of women get skid marks.
• Lots of women are struggling to have a baby.
• Lots of women have been reared by alcoholic parents.
• Lots of women hate their bodies.

I have deliberately not commented on these points and have sought to give you as neutral an account of these secrets as I could.

Who am I to judge? Who are you?

It seems to me the leitmotif in all of this is SHAME. It is such a horrid fucked up feeling, feeling ashamed.

So if you can relate to one or any of these “secrets”, you can take comfort in the fact that you are not alone. In fact, no matter what you deepest trauma, your darkest secret is: I guarentee you, you are not the only person that has happened to or who have done that.

So. How does one finish off a post like that?

I’ll give it a go with Michael Jackson, who holds a major part in one of my secret fantasies. If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll tell you. Promise?? Prroooomise??!!

I loved Michael Jackson so much when I was 12 and he was Bad. I used to have this fantasy where we’d get married and then dance our way down the isle. It looked REALLY cool. Incidentally, back in those days I wanted to become a choreographer.

Wow. Two secrets out there.

25 years later I am about as far away from being a choreographer as I am to marrying Michael Jackson, God rest his soul.

So, here it is. Click this link and think of me – dancing down the isle with a black Michael (Oh, in my fantasy, he was still black!)

You Are Not Alone