It all started innocently in an editorial meeting while chatting about potential articles. There were three of us — Marcus sitting behind his desk, Luna writing ideas on the white board and myself. I was in my usual position, slouching on a chair with a pen in hand and my water bottle near. Ideas on sex and shame were being thrown out — deviant desires, shame thresholds and overcoming shame.

It was a discussion in which no topic was taboo and one in which I felt my cheeks turning a deep shade of red as the conversation delved into areas that brought my prudishness slap bang on the top of the table — leaving me wide open, a victim of my own Victorian sensibilities. And like vampires, Marcus and Luna caught onto it, somehow the tide turned and I became the focus of four editorial eyes — they had found the next story.

I was to venture out, test the thresholds of my internalized shame and explore ways of embracing a sex positive attitude with my body. In short, I was to join the Sexual Overtones and take part in a burlesque cabaret. “Excellent,” I thought and, with a grimace rather than a smile, walked quickly away, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach and the dawning reality that, in order to meet the feature deadline, I needed to strip.

Six weeks later: Mission Accomplished.