My Overactive “Venus” Plexus

I can’t help myself.  I commented on one of my own posts tonight (funny how we Bloggers do that).  It seems as though I find myself reviewing some of my posts and then I start pondering things to myself like, “Why did I say that?” or “What was I thinking?” or better yet “I need to add something to that”.  Hence the “footnotes”.  [I think my ” ” button is a little overactive today – or maybe it’s the fact that I’m drinking Tim Horton’s coffee at 9 pm – great for insomnia….].  So, anyways, where was I (oh great….my ADD is expressing itself again…)?  Oh yes!  Commenting on posts.  Am I the Queen of Digression, or what?  Sorry folks [sip].  Tonight I commented on “It’s Too Short to Even Name” .  The title in itself is grammatically pathetic, but you get the point.  The post was also pathetic because I was bloody tired and had alot to do today.  Enough said.

So, I gets to thinking tonight (oooohh….even better use of the English language PM….), I need to do a post on “Blushing”.  You’ll have to read the third comment to that pathetically named post to understand why.  I won’t get into it here.  I’m trying to keep my blog clean…mostly (with the odd allusion now and again….).  [wink].  I am a Master Blusher.  If they gave PhD’s to people for blushing, I would have 10 doctorates.  Now many people (ahem, …. my Sceptred Isle friends) would agree quite readily that there is something quite Victorian about the whole concept of blushing.  You know, the whole, dainty lady in waiting (or blushing bride), that gets a tiny shock out of something “naughty” and turns crimson red (much to the charged euphemistic amusement of some male onlookers).  This is modesty and innocence peppered with the insinuation of sexual innuendo.  Up until a few years ago, I never would have made such a connection (“Moi?  Sweet little innocent moi?” – yeah right).  Great.  So all the boys were teasing me – and for good reason.  Did I mention that I am Catholic?

According to scientists, the physiological principle behind blushing is really quite simple.  Let’s review.  A person sees someone naked.  That person, due to their modest upbringing gets embarassed.  A burst of adrenalin (aka epinephrine) is shot into that person’s bloodstream and is picked up by receptive cells on the walls of vessels and arteries (aka the “venous plexus”).  In response to this magical surge of “epi”, that person’s blood vessels respond by dilating.  The result – many blood vessels engorged with a nice supply of blood and a rosy red appearance to the cheeks (we won’t discuss the colour of  said naked “nudie bird’s cheeks”….[grin]).  This is the so-called “psychophysiology” of blushing due to an involuntary sympathetic response by the nervous system.  Other forms of skin reddening exist, but really aren’t that exciting, unless you suffer from them (rosacea or other strange medical types of persistent skin irritation) – and in that case, I empathise. 

*Am I starting to sound like an eccentric documentarist or what?*

So back to the innuendos.  There really is something rather sexist about the “mythology” of the blush.  Apparently, “proper” women were supposed to blush – as this was a desired response from a person thought to be modest and pure (ie.  if the lady didn’t blush she was considered a harlot!  “A harlot, I say!” – yeah right).  Simone de Beauvoir would have a field day with this topic (I read “The Second Sex” in highschool).  Did I mention that men have been known to blush too?  Ask the makers of Anusol [grin].  No, seriously.  Men have been known to blush for various reasons too (that’s obvious) – but perhaps not for the same social conditioning reasons that women blush, but it happens nonetheless.  Regardless of “how it’s done” or “who does it”, there is something rather challenging about trying to make someone blush isn’t there?  I mean, how absurd or “improper” do WE (the antagonists) have to be, in this day and age, to get someone to actually blush (you’ll embarass yourself discovering how “you-blushy-little-antagonist-you”…).  We no longer live in Victorian times – just ask Paris Hilton.  Wait, she might not even know what “Victorian” means….Oh nevermind. 

Humans are such a bizarre species [scratching my head…..].

-Poseidon’s Muse


2 responses to “My Overactive “Venus” Plexus

  1. It’s funny how the guys at work seem to blush more readily and with more frequency than I do. Mayhaps I embarrass them on purpose? Now I wouldn’t do that, would I??

  2. poseidonsmuse

    Not you, you “blushy little antagonist you…!” [smirk, wink]. Men can be such fun sometimes (and they think they have us “pegged”).

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