Pain is real, and exists at a fundamental level.
However, I think the principle of "discomfort" is quite different. I have come to believe that most of what we think of as discomfort is socially constructed – even what we think of as physical discomfort. It's important to understand that I'm not speaking of pain, here, not even mild pain, but rather that sense of being uncomfortable in some way. Certainly it is true that some types of physical discomfort can shade into real pain in inperceptibly small steps, but when we cringe at someone's awkward behavior, or complain that a room is too warm, or insist that our chairs are uncomfortable, mostly we are dealing with psychological constructs, which in turn are often the result of social (cultural) interactions and conditioning that we received as children.
What I'm thinking of is my recent observation that Koreans seem to find the idea of wearing a long-sleeve shirt in summer unbearable. They visibly stare and wince when they see me wearing my now habitual long-sleeved shirts. I don't really care, one way or another, as far as my own personal comfort is concerned – I don't think it really impacts my experience of feelings of relative "heat" or "cool," since frankly, in the summer I'm always just plain hot, and there aren't many shades of difference in my experience of feeling that it's too hot.
Koreans however – and at a very young age, apparently – are taught that wearing a short-sleeved shirt offers immense – even indispensible – relief from the discomfort of summer heat. Koreans do odd things, because of this belief that they must wear short-sleeved shirts – many older people wear short-sleeved shirts, and then they wear these weird-looking "arm socks" (see advertising picture at right) because they don't trust the sunlight's effect on their skin, either. My feeling is that this looks much less comfortable than simply wearing a long-sleeved shirt.
My students and coworkers regularly ask me, while wincing in sympathy and gesturing at my arms, if I'm too hot. I shrug but it's starting to feel awkward. I admit that there's a certain vanity involved, on my part – I have a really scary, icky looking scar on my right wrist, now, from the cancer surgery, and my arms are skeletally skinny. I'd just prefer not to have it out there. When my scar shows, people stare at that instead, so I can't win either way.
This social construction of discomfort goes both ways. We in the West are taught almost universally to "chew with a closed mouth" and not to slurp food. Koreans don't care at all, and to a person they will slurp noodles and cram vast quantities of food into their mouths and share with all their progress in masticating it. I still cringe when I am around Koreans eating because it's quite hard to ignore my own early social conditioning in the matter.
[daily log: walking: 5 km]