Sunday, May 29, 2011

Dimples, of the Peanut Butter Kind

Dimples in cheeks and chins intrigue me.  My face is not dimpled, and maybe that's the reason for my dimple interest, because aren't we all fascinated by the features we don't have?  This may be why buoyant breasts with just a crevice of cleavage are so intriguing to this B-cup bird.  

Dimples are basically dents, a "flaw" in the flesh, that appears at the stretch of a smile.  Cheek dimples are ephemeral, whereas chin dimples appear an impression of permanence.  Facial dimples are a powerful public feature because they affect expression and invite interaction.  Sacral dimples and duo-dimples above the buttocks, on the other hand, are private landmarks on a lover - islands on a journey around the body. 

I fear if I fall asleep next to a man with a dimpled chin or cheek, my little finger will settle like a cup in a saucer and swirl the circle of skin in meditative motions until I am lulled into slumber.  Maybe an obsessive caress of the flesh is the origin of dimples, thus my desire to do the same to this day is an observance of the first dimple ever created. 

Besides being a tactile lullaby to my sleepy fingers, I considered the possibility that dimples are one of Dr. Paul Ekman's Micro Expressions, but maybe the muscle that shivers just under the skin is seen in all smiles, whether felt or false.  (I will peruse Ekman's articles and get back to you)

I can't resist a good chin dimple, especially the one nestled in the chin of this redheaded wonder of a boy, also the son of a friend.  Isaac is a couple years older than this photo, but the dimple still remains.  Dimples give men of any age a thoughtful look; a sign of veracity. 

In addition to dimples in the skin, my tongue is a fan of a dimple inspired cookie we call Peanut Butter Dimples. They are flourless, egg/dairy-free peanut butter cookies with a cardamom sensibility.  These cookies taste like a cousin to candy, and they are a favorite of both Meg and the Retail Bitch. I have voyeuristically witnessed both gals eat the cookies until they should feel guilty, yet they never do; they devour with an unabashed passion as if their tongues are forming dimples with every lick. 

Meg named our peanut butter cookies after dimples, and it's an appropriate name as they appear not as dimples but as the the batter that was scooped out to create the indentations in the first place.  What if we were originally peanut butter dough figurines laid end to end on a pine table that was as long as the last unknown universe? And as the pneuma of life was sprinkled on our sticky surfaces, some of us were lucky enough to have a bit of dough from our chins and cheeks scooped out by a delicately held spoon?  Take a look at our Peanut Butter Dimples and tell me otherwise.

Reading this post will likely cause you to be more aware of your dimpled surroundings.  You will start seeing dimples everywhere, on friends and strangers, lovers and peers.  I advise you not to take tongue to cheek and pretend you are licking the peanut butter dough bowl from their face.  Lick our dimples instead; it's less creepy.

~ Trilety

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