I don't know if there are any post-70s like me, who proudly live their lives and are ashamed to see people.
I'm especially afraid that friends and family will come to my house or come to my city to meet.
I remember in my sophomore year of junior high school, a summer afternoon class. At that time, the girls were wearing vests with a base, and I accidentally found a large crack in the left side of my vest, which was clearly visible through the pale green chiffon shirt. Behind me sat a handsome tall guy who could breakdancing, and to hide his embarrassment, I covered the crack in my vest with my left arm one afternoon.
I was afraid that my friends and relatives who came to my house would find out that I was hiding it badly, just like the crack in my vest back.
