embarrassed? me?

I can't figure out why I'm fearless in embarrassing myself in some ways but not in others. I just returned from moving my car from one side of the street to the other ('tis street cleaning day for the western half of the street), but this is not an event that requires dressing. Who the hell is going to see me zip around? Well, I guess I didn't anticipate parking closer to Sunset than my apartment, did I? At least three people (including my landlord) saw me in quite a, well, embarrassing state. I have scary hair, scary untreated/uncovered pimples (the dry air is forcing some overworking of those oil glands and the results are just frightening), a massively-oversized T-shirt--sans bra, of course--and cropped pajama pants that, no, do not match the shirt. This should be absolutely mortifying since there's a good likelihood that the people who saw me in this scary state will see me again in a not-so-scary state. That should be embarrassing. But, no, I've done it before and I'll do it again. I just can't get up the courage to possibly embarrass myself to death in public places with the opportunity to snag men. What gives?