A hard smart under hot wash of coffee. Beneath the pulped swell of winter citrus or a sharp draw of winter air. Not delicately, Dr. Wayne tested each molar etched through. In sleep I will fit one to another and scrape. What gnaws at me: my own mouth, now hindered and harbored by this night guard. In the day, set aside, its plastic holds a phantom jaw.
To read Frederic Gros's A Philosophy of Shame is to be reminded of how vulnerable we are to the emotion's inhibitions and agonies. We shame, we are ashamed, and we expend significant energy imagining shameful situations so we might avoid them. Shame makes us vulnerable to humiliation and ruin, and provides a method by which we can humiliate and ruin others. The cycle is often self-perpetuating: shame begets shaming.
'Make-up free' can mean different things to different people. To me, it means looking in the mirror at pitiful eyebrows, pores you could store spuds in, stubby eyelashes and a decent whack of rosacea, which keeps me humble if nothing else.