This was the title of a onetime TV show. I watched one episode, it beggared belief. Someone would say "I have this hideous thing under my clothes. I am mortified. Can't bring myself to show my doctor or even my Mum. Instead I have decided to tell 10 million viewers about it"

I have no problem with nudity as such. My parents often lounged around the house stark naked. They weren't nudists. I think they thought it was a good way of teaching me that men and women are different under their clothes. I got the message.

I went to art school, did life drawing. No embarrassment. The models would take their position behind a screen before we started. They did not make eye contact, talk to us or move their bodies. There was one awkward body malfunction with a sitter called Stan, but we students all remained professional until we collapsed in the canteen. 

What I don't like is the way some women behave in changing rooms. Usually the ones with perfect toned bodies, no cellulite or saggy bits.They stand close talking to you, and you don't know where to look. Or rather you do know where to look, but that makes me blush even at my age.

When I used a gym I would scuttle home to shower and change. Back in the day I wore mini skirts and hot pants, but I have never owned a bikini in my life, or used a communal changing room.

That said, there is  obviously something about me that compels some women to show me bits of their bodies (Men too, but that might be best left for another blog). Sometimes this is part of the sisters self-denigration ritual (my bum has terrible stretch marks etc). I can play this with the best of them, but don't feel the need to illustrate.

I have been called upon a couple of times to give an opinion on boob jobs. Looking at the clothed person I might say  "You have certainly got the height to carry off FF cups" then before you know it "Oh, there's really no need to... gosh, they certainly do feel real. Yes, I would imagine he does love playing with them. Ha! Ha!"

I have never wanted to be a nurse, but I obviously express too much sympathy when hearing about medical conditions. "Oh, you poor thing" I say. Next thing you know, garments are being pulled down/lifted up. "Oh dear, yes that does look sore. And in such a delicate place too". 

It was a cinema visit that prompted this. Not the film, one of the adverts, for all over deodorant. In it people sniffed each other in ways that would make my dogs blush. Maybe I am far too prissy and inhibited, but I found it repugnant.

If this is  becoming the norm, count me out. 

Val

A Moodscope member