Thursday, August 16, 2012

Manscaping

Are you disgusted by male back and chest hair? You maybe under 35. I couldn't imagine any man my age back in our twenties shaving their backs and chest. Lots of the men I knew didn't even shave their faces and rarely cut their hair. The boyfriend I had previous to Steve hadn't cut his hair since he had hit puberty. It was thick and down to his waist. (I see on Facebook that it is now much shorter.)

How many hairy bodies were in the Olympics? OK I could see it for swimming. Those little arm hairs presumably produce little bits of drag. I have a cheap suggestion to improve ones speed: grow some fingernails. The larger the hand, the more water that could be displaced. There are ideal spacings for the fingers. If you spread them just a little, your hand turns into a larger paddle. Part of Naomi's early success as a swimmer was due to her much larger than average hands and feet. Coupled with her broad shoulders (good pecs), she was a superior breast stroker. But in races decided by a thousandth of a second, those fingernails may help you touch the wall first.

I was first alerted to this dread of male chest hair back when Josh was planning to go on a senior trip to The Bahamas. One night my kitchen became a waxing hub. My creusett saucepan was sacrificed to the cause. Although Josh's extra hairs were late to develop, he had some fairly hairy friends (many of his peers were held back so they actually older than he was). They took turns pouring hot yellowish-brown wax on each other and then pulling back strips of it. Yeck. If I had to guess, I would have thought that chest hair was a sign that they were growing up, something to be proud of, but no, it was a disgusting sign of age.

Josh was destined to become hairy. He certainly has a hairy father. My father was covered with a thick mat of red hair. An orangutan came to mind. Now that he is out in the dating world, extra care has to be taken to his appearance. Some manscaping must be performed. My duties are ever expanding.

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