Pardon me if I take my time to disrobe. Call it coy, but I don’t feel comfortable enough with you to reveal much of me in this introductory chapter.
To me recounting my life’s story is synonymous with stripping under glaring lights, before inquiring eyes. “But you were born naked. It’s such a natural state,” people remind you, but they conveniently forget to mention that moments after birth you were smuggled into a blanket and safely tucked away. And thus began your life of hiding – hiding behind your smile, your makeup, your mother’s skirt, your bedroom door, your glazed eyes. We peer round reputations to see who’s watching; peep through cracks in our defenses, to see who noticed. So when there’s a call to come out, we hesitate — and understandably so.
If you don’t mind, I’ll just take off my shoes for now….