Some people sneeze gently and quietly, as though they don't want people to know they're sneezing. I call these people "Coy Sneezers" because their sneeze sounds a bit like a hiccup. Others emit more noise when they sneeze, usually giving rise to the voiced sneeze. To me, these are "Established, Sneezers."
Then, some sneeze with great force, who look and sound as though they're exploding. I call these individuals "Missile Sneezers."
Of course, there are many variations to which our sneezing type takes. Other than the Coy Sneezer, we often blurt out non-sensical words and phrases as we sneeze. For many of us, sneezing has a technique and a language all of its own. Some people delay mid-sneeze before finalising it. My partner, Sonia, is one such person. Her sneeze goes like this, "Haik……choo," with perfect elocution, I might add. Sonia's an "Established Sneezer."
The fiercest-voiced sneezer I've ever encountered was my Dutch father - undoubtedly a "Missile Sneezer." He blew his top and mine when we were in the same room. What an eruption: HUTCH!!!
The way we sneeze seems like something we adopt to a degree, though the closing of our eyes when we sneeze is not something we choose. Shutting our eyes during a sneeze, though fleeting, is an automatic reflex. It happens every time we sneeze, no matter how we sneeze, a fact that makes me think one wouldn't want to have a sneezing attack while driving. That could prove to be a solid problem or worse. The legal defense for that specific predicament is called automatism.
Sneezing is an odd bodily function. Me, I'm an "established sneezer" with the tendency to be a missile yawner!