Conversely, if some dude’s inbuilt conceal-o-meter scans your eyeliner as a millimetre thicker than the Department of Warpaint’s cat eye regulations, you’re likely to be charged with five counts of Offences Against Natural Beauty…
Part of this phenomenon is that a lot of people, and almost all men, don’t understand how make-up works. Make-up was, and still is to a large extent, one of those private self-maintenance tasks ladies perform out of male view, because putting it on openly fucks with the illusion it’s supposed to create. Traditional make-up - and especially ‘no make-up make-up’ - is supposed to make your face look ‘naturally beautiful’…
Sponging on the foundation where dudes can see messes with men’s suspension of disbelief and can even cause anger, confusion or disgust. You tricked me!, he thinks. I thought you were a natural beauty! Now I see [it was] an illusion… “If I know she wears make-up,” muses the dude, “maybe she burps and farts as well. That’s not hot at all, and women are supposed to be hot…”
Wearing ‘too much’ make-up also renders the make-up itself visible, rather than contributing to the impression of a woman’s inbuilt, effortless fuckability. It’s often connected to unbecoming displays of overt sexuality: … ‘that heavy eye shadow makes you look like a whore’…
This does open up the enticing possibility of using make-up in rebellious ways, though - playing with colour and glitter or doing a hot pink lip can make you look fantastic and repel men who expect more subtlety in make-up practice. Or you could take a more direct approach, like writing IT’S NOT FOR YOU across your cheek in green shimmer eyeliner. You go girl."
— Eleanor Robertson, "All Made Up" (via crystalcabinet)
What To Do When Your Boyfriend’s Asshole Best Friend Says, “Hey, Never Trust Anything That Bleeds For Seven Days And Doesn’t Die,
OR The Only Poem I’ll Ever Write About Periods.
Don’t excuse him because he’s had
at least three lite beers
and is sweating through his black button down
that his mom or exgirlfriend
probably bought him.
Don’t excuse him because he’s been turned down
by the last six girls he went on dates with
after meeting them on tindr
with a picture that’s seven years old
Don’t excuse him because
he’s usually such a nice guy
because you don’t want to be a bitch
because you don’t want to cause a scene
because when you were seventeen
your sister told you
no one likes an angry feminist
Let me explain something to you.
Every goddamn motherfucking month since I was eleven,
a part of me
tore itself to shreds
ripped itself apart inside me
and then remade itself.
So yes, I bleed for seven days
and I don’t die
You know what else can do that?
Things of legend.
Fuck, I can even
So I say, never trust anything that can’t
bleed for seven days and not die.
You know what that makes it?
So let’s see, hon,
What you’re made of.
If you can bleed for seven days
and not die.
Rip out his jugular with your teeth.
And when he bleeds for seven seconds
spit on his corpse and say,
I thought not.
Katherine Tucker (determined-in-slc)