Closet Freak

Holding my cup of black vanilla tea in one hand and signing into my facebook account with the other, I noticed a startling fan page update from a friend and long-time ex-boyfriend that prompted me to shoot tea out of my nose. Coughing and congested with hot tea, I saw it...big boobs. I'm not just talking big, but like watermelons on steroids. And the problem was...I couldn't look away. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to. I practically wanted to cry to mommy, but these gianormous suckers were practically talking to me like that alien that comes out of that character in Total Recall...it was disturbing. Curiousity killed the cat and I began to browse through more of his fan pages (I know, I shouldn't snoop). More boobs, then more REALLY...LARGE...BOOBS. In fact, he had practically built himself an entire boobie community. Apparently I knew less of him than I thought. My friend and ex-boyfriend of 10 years ago was a closet freak and a big boobie loving beast.

[Melissa stretches out her collar and looks down at her own planets for a look]

Nope not even close...

The whole subject swirled in my head and I walked into today with a different pair of glasses regarding people. The quiet girl at the coffee shop ordering her americano...she probably loves getting her toes sucked. Then there was the older business man crossing the street clutching his suitcase...loves to be spanked. Is everyone a closet freak?

And food is no different. In practice I've met plenty of people who I know rightfully lie because somehow they feel they need to impress me about what they eat. Um, hello, you're paying me for a reason...I slip up too, you know. For example, normally I prefer good quality dark chocolate but every now and then, I'll want a good old fashion Turtles or Twix (I blame childhood nostalgia). So I'll go to the corner store, hide at the back by the milk fridge (the reflection of the fridge doors lets me know who's coming) and take two chews and swallow like a duck before leaving the store. God forbid if someone saw me on the street eating a candy bar, they might just start throwing apples at me. Yes, completely ridiculous, I know.

So why do we stay in the closet?

I suppose deep down we feel that our guilty pleasure whether it be food or big boobs is something that we need to hide because liking it is sinful. Maybe as a North American culture we think in terms of good and bad that we've lost all sense of moderation, that we begin to develop guilty pleasures that we hide in order to indulge in them.

So how do we come out?

Maybe it makes sense to allow ourselves a cheat day. A day where we can eat our Turtles and Twix or watch a porn (if that's what you're into) and not feel guilty about it. I've seen far too many patients who kick themselves in the butt for cheating, which is why I ask them to look at it as a reward versus a set a back. The guilt alone is worse than the act itself. After all, so long as you're not hurting someone or living in a constant state of excess, then I suppose it's okay from time to time.

However there are exceptions to every rule and privacy sometimes is golden. So if you don't want it to be invaded, then the privacy settings tab just might be the place to start. Because I get it, maybe we'd rather not let people know that we're Facebook fans of Turtles. Because sometimes, we just might not feel up to sharing the ghosts in our closet...even if they do have really big boobs.