Man’s shaving journey. Manscaping and more.
So I don’t like my fur, get over it! Bears would be envious. To say I’m hirsute is an enormous understatement.
For the sake of all that’s decent in the universe I decided some time ago to remove a good portion of the rug growing from me like rabid chia pet sprouts.
As a child, the notion of the burly, hairy chest, the matted back, the heavily covered arms and legs represented real manly characteristics. Dad, uncles, and grandpas reinforced the idea.
They would say, “This will put some hair on your chest.” Hairiness seemed to be the gauge of manhood.
Well, I’m here to tell you it ain’t no special man privilege to have a bush-ass.
Body-shaving is not a shame. The process is quite freeing. About 27 years ago the question hit me, “What is all this hair for?”
I grew up in Florida, moved away for a while, and now I’m back. The heat here is oppressive. By the time I reached my teen years hair grew around my body like a pelt of unstoppable, regenerating seaweed.
At the beach, my friends would title me Sasquatch and so on. They also experienced the programming embodying much body hair meant manliness. The 1970s and 80s marked a unique period in my life.
So, the early 90s came and I decided enough with the stink capturing, perspiration saving suit of hair covering my body. I began to trim the excess fur. But, then I felt suddenly lighter and cleaner. It was exciting.
The razor became my shower buddy.
Shaving my body arms, chest, stomach, and lower regions became a ritual. Twice a week I remove the excess relentlessly attempting to blanket me in a curly weave.
Until about 3 weeks ago I changed my mind and let the hair have its way. I considered maybe letting the wool grow would strengthen my being like unto the story of Samson.
The first-week itchy fibers extended and then the strands grew longer and soon my body grass was thick. A couple of weeks of growth later I remembered why I enjoy body shaving.
Humidity and heat trapped in my body hair reminded me about the benefits of being bare-skinned. It felt like, especially after hours of working outside, I wore a suit of damp yuck.
The clinginess which wouldn’t leave even after a shower felt uncomfortable.
Last night I shaved my upper body again. The instant coolness following the hair freeing shower shave returned.
My wife noticed immediately and one my kid’s said, “Yay, you shaved your fur — it’s eww!”
I felt a little triumph.
I don’t need hair to prove I’m a man. Returning to the hair part of nature is not so important. Why do I have to be a caveman to be authentic?
It’s postulated humans grew excessive hair to keep warm and shield against nature and as we have evolved our bodies produce less. Some of my genes must have regressed.
Who’s in charge of this body? Somebody’s ideas, not mine, make me be or just my reasoning? I’ll take the later.
It’s fun to have a bald upper torso and I like being able to see my muscle definition. With my natural hair carpet, there’s no way to see my abs.
I work hard on those suckers so I like to flex them and get a glimpse on occasion. My wife likes the view too.
The notion of being a bit less hairy-scary feels awesome as well as being less likely to repel my daughter who sometimes will fall asleep on my chest. My five-year-old blatantly told me she doesn’t like to get close to me when I’m haired up.
Children can be so -in your face- honest.
I think any man is free to decide to keep the body carpet or say goodbye to their body rug. It’s a personal choice.
Perhaps you want to keep your bush-ass but for me, it’s much better to be free of the trappings.
You know what can get stuck in that mess. It ain’t pretty.
Perhaps this is all TMI (Too much info) and should be verboten (forbidden) talk but I think it needs to be said. So many of us men have been boxed up with false masculinity in our heads.
If you haven’t already known to be kind to your thoughts it’s okay to body-shave and enjoy what you’ve wrought.
(Plus you get to pretend you’re male review dancer for your partner!)