Yeah on Creek bed mud and clay!!
Stupid/inspiring story: I was on mushrooms once, and somehow the consistency of the mud and my mindset was perfect and I just started painting my arms.  (**Later I decided to take a shower ot remove it and called in “washing the hippi off”.  In the end, I think that said more about underlying embarrassment with it than any “lameness”.)  It was bautiful.  Mud feels cool and rad.  And I somehow made some awesome swirly designs that were wonderful.
Lately I’ve been trying to celebrate and reconnect with my body in major ways (Basically because it’s been given a good weathering lately and it needs some love).  I’m finding make up is a cool way to do this and not necesarily self-exploitive.  (I did read recently in Ms. that the sociologists are catching on stronger to the fact that women tend to see themselves through other’s eyes constantly, causing major pain.)  It’s also a cool ritual.  I’m finding that since I gave up working and school and my schedule’s in flux, makeup is a good way to tell yourself you are starting the day.  In the end there are no clearcut answers.  I can still love my body, and use it for physical labor, and flaunt it.  ~H