The absurdity of conditioning

I have a photo of me in a bubble-filled, extremely sudsy jacuzzi, taken by Pete in our hotel room at Niagara Falls a couple of years back. I've never been able to post it publicly on Facebook or even show it to anyone privately, on Facebook or anywhere else, simply because I can't bring myself to do it... because, you know, *whispers* I'm not wearing any clothes under those bubbles. It's not a risque photo by any stretch - all you can see is my head poking out from the middle of billions of bubbles, and the smile on my face. 

I know this mental block is absurd, because I'm perfectly able to post photos of myself wearing clothes - and I'm just as naked underneath clothes (like everyone else) as underneath those bubbles! In fact, you see more of my skin when I'm wearing clothes - arms, hands, legs, feet, neck, sometimes some minimal cleavage... in other words, far more skin is visible normally than in that one photograph. 

I don't imagine that the presence of the bubbles will make anyone (male) think lecherous thoughts, any more than wearing clothes that cover me from neck to feet is going to stop them thinking those same thoughts. I do know that, in my head. I really do. I tell myself all this every time I think of the photo - and yet, and yet it still hasn't seen the light of day. And probably never will.

Ah, the absurdity of conditioning - and the absolute power it can exercise...