A Blush Gives It All Away

Some people think it's my talent that enables me to blush on cue. Others think it means I'm saying anything and everything but the truth. Lying. Badly. Some people think it means that whatever I'm saying is really genuine. Heartfelt. And some people see it as me being uncomfortable in their presence. Maybe. And in a way, I guess you could say that all of them ring just a little true. But if there was a moral, I'd say I simply blush a lot. I have a oversensitive blush reflex. Woop. And I can't hide it. If I even just think an embarrassing thought, I can instantly feel the squeeze in my core, the surge of blood rushing to my face and no matter what I try to do to stop it, there it goes. A full on, full faced, warm to the touch blush. It comes out at the best and worst of times. It has no preference or jurisdiction. Like when you unexpectedly catch the eye of a crush, or run into someone who definitely wishes you had died in a house fire. Last year. But it often gets misread. Sometimes it has absolutely nothing to do with the person I'm talking with or it comes from a completely separate thought about something or someone not even remotely in the conversation. And when it comes, the person I'm talking to has to figure out why on earth their perfectly tame conversation about un-sulfured dried fruit has made this poor soul across from them turn several shades of red within seconds. Then sometimes I'm caught off guard by someone who has just caught me really scantily clad for a scene for class, who at most times I'm wishing would be in the situation to see me oh so scantily clad, but not like this. And not with these damned extra 15 pounds. And the blush is so intense I have to turn away in hopes of hiding it. Unsuccessful. And then I'm left wondering how awkward that moment must have come across and what on earth they must have thought of me and the ridiculous color I turned when I realized who was walking down the hall. I've tried breathing deeper, hoping to slow down my racing heart, maybe lower my blood pressure or whatever blessed idea I get to try to keep the blood in my chest and out of my face. But no, it won't. It wants to go exploding up to my face, out to the very outer layers of skin as if to show the world what really beats inside me. Which deems the question. What AM I reacting to? It isn't nothing. It can't possibly be. Yet sometimes it takes someone pointing it out to me for me to realize that thanks a lot, it's happened again. And sometimes I can feel it brewing and I know that despite my many efforts it will only be a matter of seconds before it arrives. I used to think it was mostly embarrassment, but then realized I do it just as much when I teach as when I'm consciously embarrassed. I usually get more embarrassed by what people say about it than the actual blush. Then once whomever has kindly pointed it out, I start blushing harder in reaction to the news that I'm blushing. Convenient. Then I thought it was because I wasn't breathing deep enough. Nope. Not that either. Now I am of the opinion that I'm reacting to a vibe I get from something. From the person I'm talking to or the person imagined in my other train of thought. But whatever it is I don't know how much longer I can keep hating it. Maybe I can't. Maybe I would be better off embracing it and knowing that for whatever reason, it is simply an undeniable part of who I am. Maybe it means I'm more sensitive to what people are giving out, or maybe it means that deep down I simply love deeper and care more, or maybe it means nothing at all. But I'd like to think it does mean something because day after day, person after person, thought after thought, it's always my blush that ends up giving me away.