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Once upon a time, when I was a girl...

 ... one of my favourite things, was to perform little self scripted comedy sketches.

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I would give my all, to my dramatic performance’s and developed a skill for pulling faces (I took my art seriously) which wasn't difficult for me, given I have that sort of a face anyway. You know, the type of face, that looks normal enough at rest, nondescript even, but once facial muscles are mobilised, resembles a Salvador Dali painting gone wrong.

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My mum, however, would begin to reproach me for 'making faces’. Granted she believed, she had my best interests at heart and meant well. Wrinkling up my nose and flaring my nostrils, didn’t help to enhance my facial features.

So, I learned, to animate less and smile sweetly, because the message, imparted was to keep my personality under wraps, the most important thing 'to be' or 'to do' as a woman, to simply look pretty. However, if I could go back, I would tell my younger self, that there is nothing to be gained by 'playing pretty', at the expense of who you are and I now equally value my quirky, ridiculous side, absurd faces and all.

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In fact, when you think about it, it's rather astounding this ability we have adapted, to communicate our innermost feelings, including humour, by way of twitching a few facial muscles; and gives us the ability to express our individuality more than any other creature on the planet.

I would therefore contend, that it's a privilege to be able to contort my face, any which way I please, courtesy of my evolved facial muscles. I mean, the majority of creatures don't possess muscles past the neck, whereas, I, as a human being, am endowed with a total of 43 muscles in my face. So, I say, feck pretty and heck, why not use them all! and will henceforth, defend my birthright to make weird and wonderful faces, to the last : )

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Unapologetically ; ) ; )