Crossing the thresholds of sex and shame with bare boobs

Joining the Sexual Overtones

It all started innocently in an editorial meeting while chatting about potential articles. There were three of us — Marcus sitting behind his desk, Luna writing ideas on the white board and myself. I was in my usual position, slouching on a chair with a pen in hand and my water bottle near. Ideas on sex and shame were being thrown out — deviant desires, shame thresholds and overcoming shame.

It was a discussion in which no topic was taboo and one in which I felt my cheeks turning a deep shade of red as the conversation delved into areas that brought my prudishness slap bang on the top of the table — leaving me wide open, a victim of my own Victorian sensibilities. And like vampires, Marcus and Luna caught onto it, somehow the tide turned and I became the focus of four editorial eyes — they had found the next story.

I was to venture out, test the thresholds of my internalized shame and explore ways of embracing a sex positive attitude with my body. In short, I was to join the Sexual Overtones and take part in a burlesque cabaret. “Excellent,” I thought and, with a grimace rather than a smile, walked quickly away, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach and the dawning reality that, in order to meet the feature deadline, I needed to strip.

Six weeks later: Mission Accomplished.

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