I’m looking at your eyebrows…
…but also your chest.
WARNING: PERVERT ALERT.
I guess I am old school. I like some grass on the field, so to speak.
The obsession(s) with waxing, shaving, shaping, and ensuring that your mons venus resembles that of a pre-pubescent girl does not really turn me on. Call me crazy, but I prefer something natural.
ASIDE: Can we educate people about the female anatomy already? The vagina is not the (ideally) furry part. It is INSIDE!!! Or am I wrong????
I mean a little shaping and sculpting is not a bad thing, but I don't wanna know what your hoo-hoo looked like when you were ten. I prefer to know that I'm with a woman who has a no qualms about herself and her unmasked appearance. While she may make some minor cosmetic changes with regards to nature’s fluff, I really like a girl who's not afraid to let her legs be less than squeaky clean. I mean, my significant other is always lamenting about how her legs look when they're stubbly — and this from a woman who didn't even shave her legs until she was fifteen! So when there's a little tuft underneath a woman's arms, and she has the confidence to go sleeveless, showing her natural look, I'm not really concerned; I appreciate her identity.
I think this first came to my attention when we were visiting DC and waiting in line at the Washington Monument. My aunt and my mom were furiously writing notes back and forth in a notebook, remarking on the obviously foreign woman sitting next to them. I was completely oblivious because for me I had not really crossed that line into being terribly obsessed with women — I had a girlfriend in any case. Moreover, I was happy just to see a female somewhat undressed — like in a bathing suit — than really concentrating on what was going on underneath that suit.
This past few weeks during therapy, the subject of my obsession with pleasing a woman sexually was discussed. We began to examine this in depth, and surmised its origin is the fact that my mother was a constant critic (I tried always to please her, unsuccessfully), and I had such a deficit in female attention — from any female — that I have an insatiable need for physical contact.
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I would not say it's an “addiction” per se, but it has some of the chacteristics. As a result, I tend to make a brisk physical evaluation of women I observe in my daily life. Dark hair and dark eyes are like a magnet to me, and I think that has something to do with Angela Cartwright. In the third season of Lost in Space, Penny is no longer wearing long braids or parted long hair but is wearing a hairband with a short bob pulled back. She really did it for me. Yes, I know her eyes are greenish-brown.
The thing is, now I tend to observe the minutia. Yoga pants? Big fan. Also, unpadded bras, cleavage, and I'm certainly into the glutes and gams. However, unlike Sir Mix-A-Lot, I do not “like big butts,” nor do I like flat bottoms. I like a rounded shape.
Also, I don't like big breasts. Frankly, there's a point at which they start becoming ridiculous instead of shapely and attractive. I am however, a big fan of smaller cup sizes, and especially those don't need a bra to keep their shape. But I'm really going all over the place and delaying the subject on which I was supposed to be writing: eyebrows.
Please recall earlier that I like a woman who's not afraid to rock her pubic hair. So when I see a woman’s lovely eyes, it’s easy to pretend I'm looking into them — making eye contact — which is correct. But, what I'm also doing is looking above them at the color of the eyebrows. You're probably asking what the eyebrows have to do with anything?
Whether you pluck, or wax, or thread, or take some other time to pencil them in better, they reveal something that you don’t want to reveal. I’m not saying it’s 100% accurate but for the most part if you wanna know if the rug matches the drapes, you simply look in the eyes.
On the note of brows, please stop waxing them off and then drawing them on with a marker like a clown. I get it, you don't like how they are — just my opinion. For the love of god don't get them tattooed; it's fucking painful. Also tattooing permanent eyeliner is more painful; you're going to pee yourself! This advice came from someone who did it and did just that! On the subject of eyeliner: it was ten years into the relationship with my SO before I knew she could even use an eyeliner pencil; she is gifted with lovely skin.
I know this is a departure from my normal genre, but I'm going through a phase in therapy where I need to come to grips with some of my more perverse issues.
I recently read a lovely article about writing to empty your psyche of the negative, and I realize that it does have a therapeutic effect. I guess on “paper,” it's one of the few places I can be honest and here on Medium, almost anonymous. If you decide that me throwing myself out there is too much for you, feel free to unsubscribe. But I'm being honest here; I'm not trying to hide anything except for my true identity. Just being me.
Thanks for your subscriptions and your unbiased feedback, and also thanks for your writing as well because I don't click enough on the claps for the articles that I read.
Peace and love.
