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makeup, how do I love thee? let me count the ways!
I love thy brilliant and varied colours in every colour of the rainbow and beyond;
thy bewitching sparkle, shine, and glow;
thy supremely smooth texture, light as air, luxe as velvet;
thine ability to manifest both demure and bold, edgy and elegant, subtle and vibrant.
my face is the canvas, makeup my chosen medium of expression.
eyes, cheeks, lips, face —
all resplendent with dreamy kisses of artifice.
I immerse myself in colour — play with it, embrace it —
and my heart sings.

while part of this little ditty is pure lark, part of it is founded in very real truth: if, as some extremely short-sighted and misguided people have suggested (notably a few MEN, who generally don’t wear makeup and therefore can easily dismiss makeup as a superfluous and unnecessary extravagance), we completely eliminate cosmetics from our lives, we partly deny ourselves the pleasure of living as human beings, reducing our existence to mere survival not much above the state of animals. desperation is born of survivalism, where hope can be obtained from simple indulgences that lift us out of reality and let us believe — really believe — in dreams. after all, as author Anais Nin said “dreams are necessary to life,” and I dream in colour; colour makes me happy.

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