Do you realy want to know?


So i was thinking on when and how and if you even should go about letting people know something embarrassing about themselves. I’m not talking about  big things ( things they probably already know) like ” hey putting on a lot of weight, maybe you are using food as an emotional band-aid?” I’m talking about little things that can easily  be remedied. Things like “in this light i can really see that weird hair growing off your chin”, or “when you bend over we are seeing a lot of butt”.  In my mind i say i would like to know, but i also know i would be embarrassed and would likely react defensively.  At what point is mentioning things ok? Should it be based on how well you know the person, how bad the issue is? Do you stop the person with toilet paper on their shoe and give them one embarrassing moment yet save them from walking around that way? Or do you let it go and maybe it will fall off and they will be none the wiser to anything amis with no embarrassed. I think maybe it is a sliding scale of how easy it is to fix i.e. Your shirt is buttoned wrong. Vs. how well you know them i.e. Only someone you love can tell you your eyebrows have gone rogue.  I don’t have the answers just a question i was pondering while trying not to notice the angry zit peeking above the three inches of  butt cleavage on a coworker. So you tell me…. Do you really want to know?

12 thoughts on “Do you realy want to know?

  1. dude! i totally want to know. i am that one who will say something, although, i don’t know about the whole zit on the butt thing. hmmm. but totally tell me if i am trailing poo tickets from my shoe.

  2. Only a BDSM fanatic with a serious hankering for a slap upside the head ever offers unbidden advice about anything they are personally judging to be shameful or lacking in another human being. Because asshole.

  3. Yes! I want to know. I was once the organizer of a very high profile medical meeting with health ministers and luminaries from across the globe. The room was hot, and I’d taken off my jacket. No problem, I had on a lovely silk blouse. “Elyse,” said one of the high mockery muck doctors, “you have a tear in your underarm.” I was mortified but it would have been sooooo much worse if AALL the musketry mucks noticed but said nothing. When I told my husband, he said “I’d die before telling a woman that.”

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