Keeping up appearances

We all like to think that we tell it like it is, that we show ourselves as we really are. But the truth is that we spend an awful lot of time "keeping up appearances".

All too often we want to hide the fact that we're feeling embarrassed, or terrified, or guilty, or envious. We want to cover up that colossal mistake, that mounting debt, that weird obsession.

There are things we just can't bring ourselves to divulge, for fear of other people's reactions. So we keep shtum and pretend everything's normal and plain-sailing, nothing untoward could possibly be happening.

Many's the time I've hidden my fright over a work interview, a social event, an expensive repair job, or some situation where I feel hopelessly out of my depth. I conjure up what I assume is a calm, competent exterior, one that says "I'm totally in control, I can handle this effortlessly" and hope the inner terror is safely out of view.

I conceal those dodgy activities that others might find reprehensible or mystifying. Why reveal that wasted £500, that fetish for high heels or those deranged emails if they're only going to ruin someone's good opinion of me? I'll sweep them hastily under the carpet and leave my warmly appealing persona intact.

It's hard to explain why I so often feel the urge to keep up appearances when I know very well that most people will probably be sympathetic. After all, they may be just as terrified and gaffe-prone as me, so how censorious can they be?

Unfortunately there are always some who despite their own fallibilities still take a delight in crowing over other people's. They're the ones I'm nervous about. If there's any prospect of crowing, I'd rather play safe.

Much as I'd love to be totally open, I can't quite manage it. The fact is, some parts of me just aren't flattering enough.

Be my guest

Short of guests for that all-important social event? Racking your brains for remote acquaintances you can barely remember? Easy - just hire some fake friends to plug the gap.

If you live in Tokyo, there's a company that does exactly that - hires out "friends" to make your birthday party or wedding go with a swing.

Simply attending costs £127, while there's an extra charge for making a speech, singing or dancing. They can pretend to be anything you want - a lover, a secretary or a distant relative. In fact whatever you think will impress the genuine guests.

But who on earth would be sufficiently devious or insecure or pretentious to go to such lengths? Are there that many people who're so desperate to keep up appearances and pretend they've got a huge social circle?

Surely they'd be found out pretty quickly when one of the bogus guests failed to know some elementary fact about the person throwing the party or housewarming? That's funny, they never heard about the car accident. Or the overdose....

Mind you, recollecting some of the dismal social events and vacuous conversations I've had to endure in the past, maybe a few fake guests would have livened them up a bit and sent me home pleasantly happy rather than wanting to shoot myself.
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Now we've moved to the other side of Belfast, Jenny has relaunched her blog as East Belfast Diary to write about her new neighbourhood.