Nudity, Dirty Energy, Cosmetics, and the nature of being Human.

Robyn Lawley is a celebrity model with 66,000 more Instagram followers than I have.

She's a lot better looking than I am, so I'm not mad about it; and while some may see what I'm about to write as a direct criticism of her, it isn't. 

I'd like to shine a light on a behaviour the vast majority of we who call ourselves human share, that being denial, and maybe a peppering of ignorance also.

Let's get to it...

We live on a molten ball of iron and rock, hurtling through space at thousands of kilometres per second, surrounded by a tenuous wisp of atmosphere; beyond that? Endless, dark, vast, unknowable space. There is only one planet we exist on. Finite resources. Finite atmosphere. Danger everywhere.

So maybe a dose of denial is a necessary prerequisite to human happiness?

While looking at horrible faux-news clickbait sites that survive on ad revenue from page views, I saw this picture:

 

It's from Robyn's Instagram account, and is in protest of current and proposed coal mining here in Australia. If you read the comments (some of which will make you want to kill yourself if you have a brain and understand things like logic), you will get a feel for both sides of the argument.

I, myself, support Robyn's side of the argument. The Abbott Government removing funding for renewables and throwing open contract after contract to their friends in big coal is definitely worth the scrutiny of a future Royal Commission. It feels like every move they make is a short-sighted grab at cash from those who destroy our environment most, and it's pretty heartbreaking to witness not just that, but the brainwashed small-minded idiots who argue that jobs are more important than the environment (as if there is only one type of job available), or that 'clean coal' isn't an oxymoron.

So- Robyn made her point (I see how getting naked to make that point was guaranteed to get her message out their quickly and effectively. It's a shame that that's what guarantees virality, but she didn't make the rules, she's just using them for everyone's benefit).

Here are her words-

OK, so, to my mind, fair point. 

Robyn spoke her mind from a perspective of feeling that she couldn't sit on this information any longer. So she used her considerable social media reach to spread her message, using a proven trick of advertising 'sex sells' to guarantee virality (and to no doubt win her social media accounts a few new followers also).

I agree with all of this so far.

But what I don't agree with is not the fact she posed naked for the picture, but that she wrote her message in lipstick. I posted a comment (which I will include below), but Robyn didn't reply. I'm sure she has more important things to do than reply to every comment, so I understand. But I would have liked to have heard a response from her about what I thought.

I'm not going to go into detail about the negative impact of lipstick on the environment, on animals, or on human health, but I have linked relevant Google searches to each so all of you intelligent humans can do your own research and not just believe everything I say.

But if massive de-forestation, cancer, lead-poisoning, negative effects on unborn children, or vivisection aren't reason enough to evaluate what it is you're smearing across your mouth, let's look at this instead:

Lipstick has one stated purpose- to make women to feel glamorous and desirable. It does this (apparently) by using colour and texture to highlight the mouth area, thereby bringing attention to it. 

Glamour is a matter of perspective, as is desirability. My personal perspective is that women's mouths are perfect exactly the way they are, and don't need any help to make them more so. Also, I just won't kiss anyone who is wearing lipstick (not even Robyn Lawley). Some guys fetishise it, but some guys also fetishise drinking piss or having sex with their sister, so that doesn't strike me as a solid basis for argument. Having said that, I don't claim to speak for all men- I'd just like to make some points for people to consider.

And of course there are the girls who say "I don't wear makeup for boys, stupid!", and I see them all the time grossly exaggerating their lip lines as if we are idiots who can't see, and asking "Why can't I get a boyfriend?" when the lower half of their face is covered in a layer of whale fat, preservatives, lead, and oils (for no reason other than vanity).

I know for a fact that those girls wouldn't do it at all, and would never have thought of doing it if someone before them didn't tell them to. Like people's choice in religion- if they were raised in isolation with a family of scientists, none of them would be Christian, Muslim, or Shinto. They'd just be well informed people who weren't lied to.

Just like smoking (zero benefit to the user, great financial benefit to rich people who couldn't care less about you or the planet you live on), cosmetics is a staggeringly enormous industry that feeds on insecurity, and invents new ways for you to feel bad about yourself so they can sling you some new potion for youth/hotness that you not only don't need, but is actively bad for you.

And women buy into it, not only supporting it, but defending it.

So here's my statement- Lipstick isn't a necessary thing. It doesn't serve a real purpose (unless you fetishise it). It is a product that has a negative effect on people, animals, and the environment; solely for the benefit of rich people you wouldn't like if you met them. A huge number of men don't like it, and some actively avoid it. Just like diamonds, they have been marketed to you as a crucial element of femininity, when the thing that makes you feminine is the way you carry yourself (it's not exclusively therefore, sole property of women).

If you know all of this, and you still elect to wear lipstick, then that's your business. I'm not here to criticise people like that. If you're armed with information, and you make choices after gathering that information, then I respect the fact you went to the trouble to inform yourself. I may not respect your decision, but a person's decision is their own, and other people don't get a say in it. 

But a decision isn't a decision unless, armed with the facts, you have decided.

But don't be like all of the stupid girls on Robyn Lawley's comment section for the above picture, saying how stupid the Government is for destroying the environment by being pro-coal, while their Instagram pages are packed full of selfies where they are never seen without (forest eliminating Palm Oil packed) lipstick. Where they say they love animals and would never hurt them, but wear a product that is the main reason why species of animals (including apes) are threatened with extinction from habitat destruction.

Don't be like the even more stupid girls who for some crazy reason think that Rihanna is worth taking life advice from, or who is worth any kind of adoration. She's not a 'Queen'. Seriously you guys.

Just because someone tells you something, doesn't make it true. Like religion. The cosmetics industry, the fashion industry, the tabloid press, your Sisters and Mothers and Cousins; they have all said lipstick equals glamour. And because you trust these sources, you simply believe it. This is not what critical thinkers do! People you love can be ill-informed or wrong, so simply swallowing whatever they tell you is a terrible way to find your way through life. 

People influence people, and that is my problem with Robyn Lawley. She's a woman who thinks, is passionate about causes, is successful- there is so much about her to admire. But she took the bait that lipstick is a positive thing, and through her influence, passes on that message subconsciously to anyone who listens.

This is the greatest marketing trick in history, and the shame of it is, the people who do it are in the main completely unaware.

I posted to Robyn's comment section because, as a thinker and environmentalist, I believe if she knew the full story behind the lipstick industry and the product itself, she would re-evaluate her stance on it. Would she become anti lipstick? No one knows but her. But like I said before, knowing the full story is always a good place to start.

I wish this conversation would spread, that more women became aware of the facts, and made their minds up not from peer pressure or viral marketing, but from facts.

And I wish women who are inspirational and influential for others would stop helping the cosmetics industry get rich by destroying the environment, poisoning people, and testing on animals- all based on a lie, that you need their products to be beautiful.

I should mention Megan Gale here too. She's the brand Ambassador for L'Oréal's 'Colour of Hope' campaign. 

The campaign is basically a way for the company to sell more product and get an edge over their competitors. In reality it's a way to give yourself cancer. The sad part is that a portion of the proceeds of lipstick sales go to Ovarian Cancer research. Is that irony? Ever since Alanis Morisette I haven't been able to tell.

So Megan Gale (who I have hung out with, who is beautiful and hilarious, and who I am 100% confident has no idea), is getting paid to sell a product containing cadmium, mercury, aluminum, cobalt, titanium, manganese, chromium, copper and nickel, which both cause cancer, as well as harm the development of your baby’s brain, kidney and nervous system, create learning or behavior problems, and/or cause you to miscarry.

So who loves a 'strong red lip' now?

Some people know the risks and do it anyway. Like Lily Allen who happily smoked through her pregnancy and then looked really sad when her baby died in front of her. Was it a direct result of her smoking? I'm not the coroner, so I can't say. But I can say she rolled the dice, and that makes her a terrible person.

Even if you use a vegan lipstick, that doesn't make it safe for you or your baby. And even if you crush berries from your garden onto your lips as a lipstick that has no negative environmental or health effects, there is still a negative ethical effect:

People may copy you. And if they don't know how you do it, or if they don't have access to that method, or if they're just lazy, they may buy products that do have negative effects. Same reason why vaping isn't harmless- it continues the glamourisation of something negative, thereby creating a demand/market for cigarettes or lipstick (my two least favourite things that people use).

Basically, if you buy into the bullshit that lipstick is sexy, you're one of those people who believe that diamonds are rare and valuable, or that Tony Abbott isn't a liar. People only believe those things because someone else said it was true, and you never checked your sources.

Some people have asked me "What about eye makeup, do you hate that too?" Actually, I really like it and enjoy seeing it on people. The main difference being (if it's ethically sourced) that you don't ingest the component chemicals leading to long-term exposure/poisoning; and it doesn't go in my mouth if I kiss you.

As for anti-ageing creams etc- do some research! Most of it is utter horseshit, some of it actually exacerbates the problem, and a teeny tiny number of products actually work.

I'm not trying to tell you what to do, or how to think here... I'm just begging you to think. To actually think. And to share your thoughts with other humans.

You want glamour? You want sexy? Nothing is more glamorous or sexy than a woman who thinks for herself.

Nothing.

Here is my comment to Robyn:

 

This just in- I saw this on The Guardian site today, and felt it definitely warranted inclusion.

Text-

No industry has aligned itself more closely with the breast cancer movement than the cosmetics industry. It’s long flooded the market with pink ribbon products: pink ribbon lipstick, pink ribbon nail polish, pink ribbon perfume.

The NFL's breast cancer scam sells bunk science to profit off pink clothes

Karuna Jaggar

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Yet while they prominently claim to care about women with breast cancer, their pink ribbon products all too often actually increase risk of the disease – and, as if that’s not bad enough, they’re also pushing toxic products on women in active cancer treatment.
Look Good Feel Better is a psychosocial support program run by the Personal Care Products Council (PCPC), the largest national trade group for the cosmetics industry, and the American Cancer Society (ACS), the nation’s largest cancer charity. They hold free workshops that give beauty tips and complimentary makeup kits to women in cancer treatment – support that some women understandably value while facing a cancer diagnosis and treatments that may alter their appearance.
Member companies of the Personal Care Products Council (like Avon and Estee Lauder) donate cosmetic products for the kits given to cancer patients. The American Cancer Society administers the program nationwide. Cosmetologists donate their time to run the workshops. It’s all selfless altruism, until you look a bit closer.
Cosmetics and personal care products are notoriously unregulated and full of toxic chemicals, and for years activists have been pushing back on cosmetics companies putting pink ribbons on products containing chemicals linked to breast cancer. But many of the Look Good Feel Better kits contain what are commonly referred to by regulators and scientists as “chemicals of concern”, including carcinogens and hormone disruptors.
Carcinogens are implicated in directly causing cancer, and hormone disruptors can increase breast cancer risk by messing with our body’s hormonal system. When these are products used daily – and the average woman uses 12 personal care products each day containing 168 unique ingredients – these doses add up.
The ACS claims that “the benefit of this program outweighs the risk”, which demonstrates a shocking commitment to the cosmetics industry and a blatant disregard for patient well-being.
These chemicals of concern do not just increase breast cancer risk: some may actually interfere with breast cancer treatment. Most breast cancers are hormone-driven and common treatments target the body’s hormonal system. Many scientists are concerned about the ways hormone-disrupting chemicals in our daily lives can increase the risk of breast cancer. Some hormone disruptors – including methylparaben, which is in concealer and face wipes the ACS is giving to cancer patients – have been shown in a lab to interfere with Tamoxifen, a common hormonal breast cancer treatment.
Currently, no one ensures that cosmetic products are completely safe before they come on the market. Personal care products are regulated by approximately two pages of federal law that has only been updated once in the past 76 years. The Food and Drug Administration lacks the authority to require manufacturers to test personal care products for safety before they are sold to consumers (or given to cancer patients). While the European Union has banned 1,300 chemicals from use in cosmetics, the United States has banned fewer than one dozen. The Personal Care Products Council spends millions of dollars lobbying against cosmetic safety regulations to make sure it stays that way.
Furthermore, cosmetic manufacturers do not have to disclose the ingredients that constitute “fragrance” due to a regulatory gap in the Federal Fair Packaging and Labeling Act of 1973. The term “fragrance” often hides ingredients that have not been assessed for safety and often contain phthalates and parabens; “fragrance” was listed as an ingredient on numerous products in Look Good Feel Better bags, including in mascara.
If the PCPC truly cares about consumer safety as it claims to, the group should hold member companies to a much higher standard of safety instead of lobbying against regulations that would make personal care products less likely to help cause cancer.
And the American Cancer Society must stop protecting the cosmetics industry and started protecting women’s health. They can provide the program’s benefit without the toxic harms. The ACS knows that breast cancer is not pretty, no matter how many pink ribbons are attached – and no matter how many free toxic cosmetics are given to cancer patients.

You should see the search terms you guys ride in here on!

So.

Is blogging still a thing? Or do we all just radically overshare on Instagram/Twitter now instead?

I don't know, I've been off-grid. But what I do know is that I feel compelled to vent, to record my feelings here. Some of my feelings here. I'm kinda guarded nowadays.

But fuck it, let's get fucking ripped off the fermented thoughts I've been brewing up. Let's dive right in like the old days. Let's throw caution to the wind and fart together from the top of a mountain, with no shame, just freedom and LIFE.

Are you in?

SEX ADDICTION.

Experts are now saying that sex addiction is a fallacy.

These experts obviously have no idea what it's like to suffer under that, and are the same nerds who tell us something is bad one day, and good the next.

So I'm going to tell you what it's like, because you all trust me. I'm like the Fred Rogers of the blogosphere. This is my experience of it, and everyone is different I guess. I did go to a 12 step program once for sex addiction, but I'm going to be honest here and say that I never went back because there were no women there, and I am a sexual predator by nature.

At least, I used to be. I found a way out. I hope it lasts. It has for a few years now. But it still feels like new skin- transparent, potentially temporary. Weak.

Because my desire isn't a 'want'. It's not an orgasm. It's an all-consuming, throat-tearing, choking, shuddering need. A Bloodlust. An absolutely intoxicating addiction, and it would kill me if I let it.

Here's a view from the bottom:

Wake up. Rub your face in your hands, and as consciousness begins to leak out from inside of you, (probing the room, fixing your place in space/time, reminding you...) ...that you absolutely, utterly, 100%, hands-down cannot fucking stand yourself.

This feeling has deep roots. It's your motivation for everything you think, say, and do. Occasionally you manage to fight your way out from behind it- to be a person in the world, but it always pulls you back.

Because it IS YOU.

You feel ugly, and it doesn't matter how many beautiful people tell you otherwise, you objectively know as fact that you are, if not ugly, then wholely unremarkable, and in no way genuinely attractive. You know this because those beautiful people always go away, to be with other beautiful people. 

 You see them make a thousand excuses to stay with a person who looks right externally, but is shallow and deceitful inside. They get hurt again and again by other perfect people, and they always ask themselves why.

Because perfect looks are interchangeable. And if they deal in that currency, there is always...ALWAYS someone more beautiful than them (at least to the person they're interested in).

And even though they may fuck you now and then, because you're funny, or have status, power, fame, or money; when that novelty ends, so too does their interest in you.

You're fucking trash. But the kind of trash people are embarrassed about after they throw it away.

And after decades of being overlooked, of not being good enough, of feeling like an inconvenience and a stain on the world, you find yourself here. Trying to work out a good reason not to die today.

And it settles upon you. Your eyes focus, your breath flows deeper. Your muscles engage, and you rise. You fill with purpose, and right now nothing else matters in comparison. All you can feel is the need. All that you are is the purpose.

You will hunt.

And all you do, with every sick beat of your heart, is seek out and engage in sex. You will say and do whatever you have to, to get it. You will hurt yourself and anyone else, to get it. You will sink to depths of depravity and desperation that would make any reasonable person feel ill, to get it. 

And you thought Charlie Sheen was just having fun...

You hate yourself. You make others hate you, and the cycle continues.

Masturbation is a massive component of some people's sex addiction, but it never was for mine. Mine was barely about sex at all. That's like accusing someone of having a car addiction just because that's what they use to get to work.

Sex is a vehicle, its purpose was solely to transport me to that place where I was inside someone  for a time. Where I could pretend that I was in love. Pretend that I was right where I wanted to be, with someone magical and special. That our union was intense and rare, instead of the reality where I spit my poison into you, infect you with my disease- my utter inability to be in that moment. My inabilty to be human, or even just present.

I just wanted to feel beautiful. Something that so many people just take for granted, know as fact. And it's the shame of it that broke me out of my need for it.

Don't get me wrong- I still feel it. Every minute, every day. It's the worst thing about my life. And there's no way out, because if anyone says they find me attractive I am incapable of believing them. But I don't give in to the voice. I don't let it wear my body like a machine, and use it to do its own bidding.

And that's where the addiction part comes in. You do suffer withdrawals- horrible, painful physical, emotional, and spiritual withdrawals; as you learn to stand up alone. It's pathetic, like any addiction, which is why people who identify as sex addicts could use a break I think. Life sucks enough, believe me.

I work in strip clubs a lot, and that is a whole other mess. Being surrounded by (generally) insecure girls whose physical beings are so at times incredibly lust-inducing does not help. When they feel the need to win you over because they are competitive with the other girls, it's not always easy to just make an excuse and leave. That voice calls out from the blackness and questions what the hell am I doing. "Shut the fuck up."

Because I know there is nothing but heartache and having to deal with the resentment in them that everyone but you has put in there, in those encounters. Trying to find a way through the generalizations they tell themselves about men so they can cope with what they do... exhausting and pointless. We're not all the same- some of us are trying to evolve. Some of us, want to be exactly the kind of men you always hoped existed in the world. And some of us, are succeeding.

And it's not about just not having sex.

It's about being in charge of the kind of sex you want to have. If any.

In the past I would literally hunt all day, all night; drive myself physically into the ground, in the pursuit of more and more sex. The people didn't matter (although for me they had to be physically attractive, or it wouldn't connect with my issues adequately). But just like any other kind of addict, I found myself constantly in places and with people I was just horrified to find myself in. People I just couldn't stand. Situations that were so dangerous and unhealthy. Always looking for that bigger score, that purer high.

Unfortunately, and as I have talked about before, I had access to a lot of gorgeous and impressionable women through my previous work, to the extent I didn't even have to try to get laid- all I had to do was be there.

And I'm filled with shame to think of all the people whose formative sexual experiences I polluted with my contemptuous and hateful disease.

Sometimes, just like with drugs, the fog would clear for a minute, and I'd think "What the fuck am I doing here?!", like when a young child you didn't even know existed would walk in on their single Mum while we were fucking, wanting their parent, who I was taking to places no child should ever see.

The memory of those times makes me so sick, adds to my self loathing.

For the record, I would always leave right away when things like that would happen. I was an animal, but still so intensely protective of children. I just pray and pray and pray that those kids don't remember any of those times, but of course they fucking do. I'm some kids bad childhood memory.

And to those more vanilla among you, fucking in clubs, in alleys, walk-in refrigerators in restaurants, in parties where you don't even know who it is you're fucking because it's so dark, in beds while partners slept beside us, with Mothers when the daughter was asleep, with daughters when the Mother was asleep, or the Father was asleep, or worse; when they were awake and I'd make them watch as I claimed what was theirs for myself before carelessly throwing it back- it all might sound pretty interesting.

Fucking so much every day you're constantly in pain, your body crying out for rest while you relentlessly drive it into the ground.

And some people may genuinely desire that.

But that's not what I wanted, it never was.

I wanted someone, just one person, who made me feel like I was beautiful to them. Someone who made me feel safe enough that I could invest everything in them alone.

I have had relationships with so many amazing and inspirational women, but no one has ever made me feel safe in that way.

And while they would lose their minds with anger and jealousy over other connections I would nurture on the internet and in real life; they didn't think I would notice that it was because they were doing exactly the same thing.

That if someone was to make me their priority, and to find a home in me... well, that's all I ever wanted.

So I had to work a way out of this for myself. No support, no one to talk to, nobody I could cry to when I felt weak, because honestly, no one gives that much of a shit. And when I'm doing well, and making my mark on the world, people swarm around me like flies. But when I'm off-grid, and needing simple, healthy human interaction, it's always just me.

Like I said, I've been fighting this for a long time. And I knew the key to short-circuiting my compulsion was to take control of the sex I wanted to have. To identify it, and only allow that past the gate.

And I eventually worked it out.

My last relationship ended more than 2 years ago, and I haven't had one since. I have dated someone for a couple of weeks, I 'saw' a couple of people (in the hopes it may turn into more), but I never felt inspired to stay.

If I slept with someone, it was because I decided that in that moment in time, and with that person in particular, I wanted to share sex, with them, and always in the hope that it would bring us closer. It's ok if it didn't work- I'm not a puritan.

The point is I stopped myself from giving in to the old way of doing things, even when it would have been so easy.

I was in Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago. I was doing a product shoot for my bicycle business, and catching up with an old friend.

My friend had to work a couple of nights that I was there, so I went out on Hollywood Boulevard to a bar I know, and just hung out.

Americans are generally such welcoming and lovely people. I know the conception of them is often loud and ignorant, but I just don't come across that so often. So when I go out (unlike in Melbourne, Australia, which has its head rammed so far up its own ass it's almost a head again), I find it really easy to make friends.

I can't name the person I'm about to talk about (at least, I can, but it wouldn't be nice), and because they are easy to track down if I describe them even generally, I won't do that either.

What I will say is that she is beautiful, famous, interesting, and inspirational. What I will also say is the last thing I am about to do is start a relationship with someone on the other side of the planet. So for me, when we met, I treated it as just a chance meeting in an interesting place, with someone I'm very glad I met. We talked for hours, and all of a sudden the lights came on, and it was closing time. I looked at the clock above the bar and was surprised to see the bars close really early over there, and as I turned back around her lips were on mine.

She kissed me softly and told me I should stay with her tonight. I didn't kiss her back, made my excuses, and walked out.

It wasn't the kind of sex I want to have, and I thought we were just two new friends talking. I had no idea she would do that, and I felt incredibly awkward.

I want to fuck someone in my town. I want to fall in love with that person, and share the good things in my life with them. I have a lot of great things happening right now, and it feels wrong to just keep it all to myself. If I buy my farm, I want someone special right there with me, helping me pick out and raise animals, being a part of my life, not just a night.

I want to sexually destroy that girl, then lovingly reassemble her.

I don't want to waste my time inside anyone who won't at least potentially be that person. I've had enough 'experiences' to last several lifetimes. I don't want any more, especially not the kind of experiences that evaporate when it's over, leaving you with nothing but a slowly fading memory.

This girl in L.A., she's still my friend, which is nice. But I know for a fact one day soon she will disappear from my Instagram, because what I did wasn't a very nice thing to feel.

The point is, I chose. For myself, according to my own desires. I don't for one second regret the decision I made.

Now here's the hard part.

I don't believe I'm ever going to be loved the way I want to be loved. People come along occasionally, and express an interest, but their own damage always speaks clearly to the fact that it will never, ever work. Either that, or I'm just not good enough.

And that's ok.

But I don't want to make my problem, their problem any more. I don't want to make an excuse just to feel that rush again, then leave them wondering what happened. I don't want to be greedy or self centered.

I either want to love someone, or no one. No in between.

And even though it means I don't get to have sex at all any more, I'd rather that than sharing it with people who don't deserve me.

Because even though I'm no beauty queen, there are at last more good things than bad. I'm not a victim to my past, but the pioneer of my future (How stupid does that sound?!)

The point it, I'm proud of me. And that's what it takes to break that cycle.

I say "Love or nothing."


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.