‘I have no shame.’ It’s something I say quite often, usually in response to amused-yet-slightly-horrified comments when I’ve had yet another article published online about something that makes people feel slightly uncomfortable, whether that be death or sex toys (and if you want to see something really fucking hilarious that I wrote recently, click here – tl;dr, I rode a motherfucking Sybian and wrote about it on a massive website BECAUSE I HAVE NO SHAME. Oh and there was that time I offended a lot of Catholics).
‘I’d never dare put my name to something that graphic’, people say. ‘Aah well, I have no shame’, I invariably reply. Usually they just laugh and we talk about something else, but I’m always left treading down the desire to grab them by the shirt collars and screech ‘WHY? WHY DO YOU NOT DARE? WHAT IS IT THAT YOU ARE SCARED OF?’
Of fucking course I have no shame, for the simple reason that nothing I write about (publicly, at least) is shameful. Can we make ourselves a deal right here and now? Let’s stop using the word ‘shame’ about ourselves. Stop saying ‘Ahahah, I’m shameless, me’ when you do something that others would love to do but don’t dare and they can’t figure out how you had the brass balls to just go ahead and do it. Of COURSE you’re fucking shameless, because there is no shame to be had!
I’m ashamed sometimes, sure – when I’ve eaten all the kids’ chocolate and hidden the wrappers in order to deny all knowledge, or when the dog glares balefully at me because he hasn’t been walked in three days ‘cos I’m neck deep in deadlines and the rest of the household are surviving on takeouts. I’m ashamed of being a sweetie-stealing momma and a baaaaad dog parent, also-fucking-lutely (although it doesn’t last long – kids don’t need sweets so I’m actually helping them and the dog is stupidly tiny so a bit less exercise won’t kill him for a day or so), but I don’t carry ‘shame’ for things that I consciously choose to do.
There is no shame in being interested in things, even if those things are sometimes outside of other people’s comfort zone. There’s no shame in writing openly about sex or religion or death or your love of collecting celebrity autographs so that you can reproduce them in embroidery on your underpants (I’m not sure where that last one came from tbh, but if that’s your kink then carry on because it sounds BRILLIANT). So long as you’re not doing anything cruel or illegal or totally unethical, fill your motherfucking boots with it.
People will always piss on your chips. Sometimes they really think you shouldn’t do what you’re doing, but more often they’d actually really like to be doing it themselves but they haven’t got the courage. That doesn’t make you a better person or them a lesser one, but don’t you go worrying that you’re lacking in shame. The less shame you have, the better – it frees you to be the motherfucking shark you were always meant to be. Repeat after me:
I. Have. No. Shame.
And now I need to go walk the fucking dog.