Manscaping!

I’m having issues with body hair. In the most part because I am a ‘man of a certain age…’ and there just seems to be more of it. The second reason is that now social occasions determine a certain hair aesthetic, a cultural requirement.

These are the pressure I currently face.

Lets start from the top and work down. I’ll stop at the belt line, cause I don’t want to have to use the term wippa-snipper in this post.

Brows have been important to me since my mid-20’s. This is when I quickly leanrt that a young-gay in Sydney should not have just the one eyebrow. I was mocked endlessly when I first stepped onto Oxford St for my monobrow. Cause I never went to gay-school I did not understand this rule. Me, I’d been cruising through regional NSW as a straight boy and no one had ever mentioned my massive, ear-to-ear-with-no-break-in-the-middle eyebrow.

This is another example, of which there are many, that gay men are held to higher standard than our straight brothers. The second most obvious is the beer gut. Completely appropriate on all straight men, it can even be sexy. The gayers will not stand for that. Its frowned upon. I’ve seen people whisked off for emergency sit-ups at Fitness First before their friends had to cull them.

Anyways, I digress.

I’m sure in the early days of having my eyebrows waxed I could get away with every 3-4 weeks. Slowly over time this became every three weeks. Well this year it is absolutely a maximum of 2 weeks. I feel like I spend more time at ManKind than I do at work. Not that I am complaining, I adore them. Especially my beautiful Ona who has never put a single tweezer wrong in all the time she has been my brow manicurist.

But surely having to go every 2 weeks is excessive! And don’t you dare suggest I should ‘maintain’ myself! If you knew the strength required to pull one of those fuckers you’d know that this is impossible. Ona is the only one who can do it.

Now in my weekly planner it is very clearly marked that Mondays and Thursdays are shaving days. This is primarily because I don’t care what I look like on Wednesdays or weekends. I’ve been shaving since I was in Year 6 and nothing bores me more, and I mean nothing. I’d rather watch repeats of The Nanny than shave.

This is where I get to ‘cultural body hair’. Just in the nick of time yesterday morning before I applied my Clinique shaving cream I remembered tonight! Phew. See tonight I have The Sculptor in town again and we’re going to a gathering of Bears. The Sculptor has taught me that they do not trust or like anyone without facial hair and there is nothing I hate more than being ostracized or getting the dresscode wrong. So I’m full hairy Bear for the night.

But here’s the contradiction. I have a dance party thing, Daywash, to go to on Sunday which will be full of the buff and the beautiful and you can bet your life there will not be a hairy chest amongst them. So while I’m thinking ‘thank god I remembered not to shave’ I’m also thinking ‘Where are the Remingtons, I need to trim down that chest’. There are different hair rules for every occasion.

Not mine, but a Stunt Double

I have to admit I’m not so opposed to clippering my chest though, for two reasons. The first, and most importantly, is that my chest is the only body part so far to sprout some grey hairs. And they look horrific. Only when I’m wearing a low-cut blouse does anyone notice. Chances are I’ll be topless most of the day so I need to trim those fuckers back.

The second is that a clippered body makes you look more defined. Not sure how or why, it just does. You want take off a few kilos than No.1 clipper all over your torso. I’ve been meaning to go to the gym for a few months to be ready for this party but I kept forgetting/sleeping/eating. So now I still have the body of Marshmallow Man so the clippering will at least help a little bit. I’ll be more Sumo than Marshmallow after a once over with the Remington.

So not only am I getting hairier and greyer but there seem to be more rules to follow. What I should just do is become a straight man and not have to worry about any of this shit.

Hahahahaha. It'd be a cold day in hell....