If I think about all the things I’ve ever done that I’m ashamed of or embarrassed by, I feel the urge to pull the duvet over my head. None of it is illegal… just cringeworthy and often mortifying to think that there are some people will only ever know me for those things. But it’s very few people… not even enough to warrant a few inches in the local midweek freebie newspaper. It still horrifies me, but that’s as bad as it gets. The thought of having millions of people know about my shenanigans, make jokes about them, categorise me alongside people who have done far, far worse, hurtful, illegal, dreadful things—well—I can’t begin to imagine.
It’s scary. It makes you wonder, “Why do I want to be well known? Why do I want to be ‘out there’?” There are certainly stories people could share about me that would not paint me in a good light (to say the least); photos that could be dissected; anecdotes galore. Because I’m human!
Let the tabloids at any one of us and we’re all vulnerable to public scandal, surely?