Face > Ass
Why is everyone so scandalized over this whole "Women need to decide between focusing on their ass or their face" thing? While I'm all for going to the gym to stay in shape, being too skinny is where the problem arises. Being thin may make your ass look great, but your face looks so much better when you're at a healthier weight.
It's no contest. The face is the clear winner here. I don't have to read a single article on the subject to know the correct answer, either. And personally, I can't think of a single situation in which I'd chose my ass over my face.
1. Mustache bleaching = OK. Anal bleaching = not OK.
While bleaching, plucking, and waxing are hideous undertakings on a good day, I'd rather shove ice picks under my toenails than weather those activities anywhere else on my body.
2. Even beauty companies don't want you to mess with your butt.
Marketers have already cast their vote in the great ass versus face debate. Anti-wrinkle cream is usually in one of the overly bright cosmetic aisles surrounded by images of models with white teeth and cascading waves of hair. Retailers pipe in soothing music to compliment the smell of lavender wafting from un-creased pastel boxes.
The creams necessary to combat butt acne, however, are generally found on the bottom shelf of the darkest aisle in the store, sandwiched between hemorrhoid cream and Epsom salts. More often than not, half of the meager ass-oriented options lay crumpled on the dingy linoleum floor where previous customers have dropped them and fled in fear of other shoppers witnessing their shame.
3. Facial products smell of talcum and perfume. Ass powder smells of menthol and rubbing alcohol.
4. You can't express emotions with your ass.
Can you smile with your ass? Can you show intrigue with your ass? Can you send your insensitive ex on the guilt trip of the century with your ass? Can you talk your way out of a speeding ticket with your ass? (OK, maybe you CAN do that last one, but still.)
Your ass is rather limited in the range of emotions it can convey. I'm not saying it's incapable of expressing sentiments, I'm just saying most of them aren't the ones for which you'd like to be known.
5. You'll never find your butt in a family photo album.
Have you ever looked back at a photo album of your ass? I'm assuming you, dear reader, are NOT a Kardashian.
6. Clothing covers up your body but not your face.
Lycra is a modern marvel. Now you can buy jeans to lift and separate those cheeks. The right bra can give my grandmother the tits of Jennifer Lawrence. Entire retail stores exist with the sole purpose of selling shapewear. Shapewear!
And do any of those stores carry a garment that lifts and tightens your face while providing a convenient bodily function slit allowing you to eat and drink? Let me stop you right there. BDSM masks do NOT create the illusion of high cheek bones. Try again.
7. Your ass will still look the same whether or not you get beauty sleep.
Ever had to try and hide creases on your ass cheeks after drinking too much wine and falling asleep while spooning your cat? Sleep never adversely affects your ass. No one wakes up to dark under-ass circles from staying out too late, nor do they complain about waking up in a stranger's bed with their ass makeup ragged and running.
Your ass looks exactly the same whether it stays up to 2 AM binge-watching Orange is the New Black, or goes to bed at 8 PM. Good luck getting your face to do that.
8. There's entirely too much work involved in improving your ass.
Lunging doesn't do a damn thing to minimize my pores, thank heavens. Nor do burpees prevent my lipstick from feathering beyond my lip liner. The chances of me tearing a rotator cuff while applying rejuvenating complex at my temples are non-existent.
9. An ass that can kiss back doesn't exist.
On average, I'd estimate I tell someone to kiss my ass 17 times a week. While my ass has the capacity to pucker, it doesn't have the ability to kiss. Only my face can do that. Added bonus: there's a tongue, too.
10. You don't sit on your face ... you sit on other peoples' faces.
You're out for a night on the town in your sexiest ensemble. Those f*ck me pumps that make your ass as buoyant as a pair of sequined helium balloons are permanently disfiguring your pinky toes with every mincing step you take toward the bar.
You spot an open stool. Relief is in sight. Are you going to plop down on your face with relief? No. You don't sit on your face. You sit on other peoples' faces. That was the whole point of those stupid shoes in the first place, right? Instead, you could've just slapped on a couple extra coats of mascara and smiled. The club's far too crowded for him to see your booty anyway.
And if all else fails, I hear tunics are back in this season. That's a win-win situation.