It must be the sickening feeling of the fingers of a person’s eyes running slowly over your stiffening body, unclasping hidden clips and straps, and blissfully pinching on your privy. Pretty people pretend to hate the craving regard of another. You are blazoned not half bad with a comely face and an electric body; you should suffer no affront even if a grisly, gangrenous ogre ogled you.
If a woman (any woman) kindly found some delicious chip of any part of me, I would be glorious glad to offer her fulsome eyefuls of more visual fricassee :-) We are all withering works of art; so why should we not make it an uppity weathering? :-) You really should turn off your overheating ohmmeter, and strike a radiant light every magical moment an enchanted pair of eyes hounds your Royal Highness :-)