Painting Power: Makeup as a Mating Call

Makeup is not a concept of vanity. Sure, vanity can be expressed by wearing makeup – by wanting to hide your perceived flaws. But makeup is purely a form of expression of your inner self. It’s a mating call- a way of displaying to the desired sex and others that you are sexually available. It’s just the way humans- females, specifically- portray part of your identity.

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Makeup is considered a form of mating call because it is meant to draw attention to yourself.  It accentuates the features that you want people to look at. Lipstick draws the eyes to the oh-so erogenous mouth, blush simulates sexual arousal, and eye liner and mascara focus on the eyes to draw in a connection with another person. We turn to makeup to highlight these regions when we are ready to have someone to notice them and understand the sexual connotations. When we are satisfied in our current relationship or are uninterested in pursuing a relationship, we keep these features minimalized.  Bright, gaudy colours and excessive use of makeup portrays desperation or easiness, bold, plain colours tend to draw intense passion or sexual prowess, and subtle, natural-looking makeup seeks more sensitive, long-term connections.

When done correctly, makeup can enhance your natural form and structure, while expressing your interest in others. This is why I love practicing with makeup.  I have so many different kinds because I’m looking for the perfect look- the perfect combination to draw in a man’s interest.  On another level, I’m just trying to get used to using it, so the times I actually wear the whole she-bang it looks effortless and attractive.

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Am I doing it right?

There’s nothing more attractive than a powerful woman, and makeup can be a way of expressing that power.  If you wear something that you think looks good on you, then you feel good.  That’s quite a powerful force.  It’s flattering when a confident, radiant woman is interested in a man(or a woman).  No, really. It’s power because it we are exhibiting a form of control of our inner and outer selves . We are expressing a desire to be noticed, to be unique.  The more creative you are with your display, the more likely you are to feel power. After all, it is a skill just like anything else.  It’s almost like art form. Actually, it is an art form and it represents inner power.  I have this power and you do, too.

I just now realized-after delving into my makeup stash to begin my ritual- what I was subconsciously doing.  I’m ready to announce that I have become sexually interested again, even though I had had no idea.  It makes sense, though. Considering that my relationship is severely lacking in the sex department, I would logically try to find fulfillment somewhere else.  Expressing my concerns and desires does nothing. He just gets irritated or dismissive.  I subconsciously was trying to find that fulfillment in another person.  Not that I recognize this, I guess I’m pretty okay with it.  I’m not finding my needs satisfied where I am now and my mind is all “well, maybe you can find that somewhere else.”   I shouldn’t have to hide my needs and desires; I’ve had enough of that in my life.  I have cravings just like any other person and I shouldn’t have to ignore them for the sake of someone who refuses to satisfy them.  Whatever happens will happen, but I’m ready to make my move.

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Yeah!

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Repression of Human Longing

Heart pumping- warm, rich blood flows through my body. All my veins, all my muscles – aching, straining to move. My brain is frozen- encased in a layer of the most impermeable ice. All my energy is focused on the simplest of functions. Even so, I cannot breathe.  It’s as if  you reach into me -squeezing my lungs – to snatch the air within. Chest heaving, pulsating – my ribs are fit to burst. My whole body  rebels against me, yet only I bear witness.

I cannot even begin to fathom from where these thoughts spring, but somehow  these desires have quietly, yet fervently, burned into my soul all this time. Unstoked, they merely festered- like an old wound that cannot quite heal up. Oh, the many scenarios I have planned out in my head, the waking dreams that dance around the outskirts of my mind – I cannot express the sheer might of these images.  Ever the skeptic, I find myself repulsed at this weakness – this sickening, debilitating longing that unwillingly inhabits my thoughts.

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Psshh

Years of sexual and emotional repression has finally taken its toll, I suppose. Never willing to admit I had feelings or desires, I at first grew quite dissatisfied with my changing, growing body.  Now that I finally recognize myself for the power I hold, I find myself unable to express it in any fashion. Despite the wide range and scope of emotions and sensations that we humans are capable of experiencing, it feels like they have more control over us than we think.

Someone is right outside of our consciousness, just waiting to make us feel the most inconvenient things.  We so often end up getting attached to someone a bit out of our reach. This supposed “wrong kind of love” is so prevalent in our thinking. Frequently we look up to those that we have little in common with or fall for people we cannot be with.  Though, whether that is ‘because of’ or ‘in spite of’ I cannot say. Either way, it is one of the most unpredictable elements of the human experience.

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Oh?

Somehow we usually seem to know what or whom we won’t like, but rarely what we will like.  We also have this habit of dichotimizing our feelings; they’re either “good” or “bad”- “right” or “wrong”.  Probably our greatest gift yet we so often contain or minimalize it, as if we are unworthy of reciprocation or above appearing vulnerable to those we care for.  I hate to think that the guise of normality and control is more vital to us than the joy of being true to ourselves, but such is often the case.  Though if we can’t be open about our natures with others, at least let us accept it within ourselves – be cognitive or our feelings and allow ourselves to bask in them. I guess I could say that this is a call to arms to all my similarly repressed kin.

Cease this continually numbing of the spirit, the absolute neglect of your voice. There are people out there who want to hear the things you have to say, and if you stay silent you will never obtain that connection. I’d like to think that the benefits far out weigh the risks in this instance.  But, think of all the awkward social interactions, faux pas, and disjointed eye contact, and possibility of rejection that you are lacking in your life!  Why, you could even grow as a person! No, no- that can’t be good for you; safety and absolute certainty is the way to go.

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Or this…

Up next for me: I’m working on a book review/critique of A Curable Romantic by Joseph Skibell and compiling a list of songs that have been quite relevant too me recently and interpreting some of the lyrics.  A Curable Romantic is a decent book, but extremely frustrating!  The protagonist is such an absolute goof!  He seems to be socially inept, obviously sexually ignorant, and naive to the point of rage at times. Ugh! As for the songs, I thought it may do well for me to add in some more popular culture and modern expression into my writing. I don’t know, we’ll see how it goes.  Also, I have decided to go back and revise and touch up my previous posts.  I’ve noticed a few redundencies, style errrors, and odd phrasing  within them after reading them out to my therapist. Generally, I like them(more than I thought I would), but I’d like them to flow much more smoothly. At the same time, my Rickman page is being pushed to the back of my mind (it’s just not tangible and, thus, less important to me at the moment) but he is still on my to-do list.   Heh…

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Not Alan Rickman, but just as acceptable.

Passion and the Heart That Melts

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Once there was a little spark named passion.

This little spark was drifting long one day until he came upon a heart, frozen in a thick block of ice.

Passion was instantly concerned! The poor heart was all alone and helpless!

So Passion decided that he would keep the heart company from now on.

Every day after Passion would come and sit next to the heart.

Without fail he would arrive in the morning and remain there, sparking until night had fallen. He wouldn’t move, wouldn’t speak, but he remained just the same.

Eventually month after month of his tenderness towards the heart had begun to pay off.

The heart had slowly begun to melt!

When he returned to his usual spot on one ordinary day, the heart was there with not a bit of ice left!

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Passion was so happy! He began to dance and dance until he grew and grew and finally he became a bright, billowy flame!

He was so overcome with delight he rushed to embrace the little heart and quickly enveloped her. They began to pulsate wildly!

The two began to radiate in a blast of colours and sensations!

The heart glowed and glowed and glowed until eventually she began to cool down.

As the light faded, from the explosion emerged a lone heart composed of the brightest and purest diamond ever seen.

From now until the end of time she would be alone no more. Her friendship with Passion would never die.

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