Shaving Men's Bits
Okay, I did say I'd come back to the subject with another alluring web-word-search type thing title. Incidentally, don't get to worried about these titles, I'm not that concerned about just anybody coming to see me. I.e. there won't be anything entitled ' Gay Monkey Sex ' - now be truthful - did you hit the link.....?.........hmmmmmmm.....? We shall remain smart, respectable with a stiff British upper lip........up to a point.
Yesterday was the first healthy day of the rest of my life........hmmmm...does that sound the kind of mantra you'd get in a 'health cult', if such a thing exists? Included, of course, there would be the usual culty tagline of "......and to reach the dizzy heights of eternal healthiness, one must disrobe oneself of all thy worldy goods....." - here's a plastic bag - stick all your bangles and wallets in there please folks! I just can't see myself joining one of them. Imagine after a weekend of healthy eating/colonic irrigations (oof!) etc - I'd be raiding my sock draw where I'd stashed a tenner to get me a taxi into town and a good old fashioned ' Mac with fries'. I really would have to be....well...mentally ill to be joining a health cult. No applications in the mail, please.
Anyway - yes, off to the gym. There it was......where I'd left it last September. Ah the smell of chlorine from the pool, the sound of children screaming with stinging eyes - glad I was going to the 'big boys and girls machines room'. Remember the weighing machine in the corner? Yup - still there. It was as though time had stood still - like the 'physical training supervisors' *cough*, and so it would seem on closer inspection - the cleaners. The only thing that had noticeably moved was my waistband.
So in the interests of hygiene, and looking & feeling cool , whilst in the gym, one has to undergo certain ‘procedures’, which one might not usually partake in. Before I elaborate further let me take you, ( “…back to the scene of the crime…” as Petrocelli used to say. Did you notice he never got that wall more than four, or five, bricks high?), into a hot and sweaty paneled room. Yes – I had been sitting in a training session at work, the ‘presenter’ was reading his Power Point slides from the screen (!). At the dreaded moment when the slides were finished, the room lights switch on, the presenter sat down in his chair…..leaned back….clasped his hands behind the back of his head and asked….”Are there any questions?”……what hideous sight greeted my eyes, even through the glare of the overhead fluorescent strips….? Was it Africa? Was the other one Australia? Or were they both large enough to be twin representations of Gondwanaland ? OH MY GOD – there were sweat patches underneath those arms that were a hazard shipping !……and thank the sweet Angels of Mercy above for air-conditioning as well, otherwise I’d not be here to tell the tale.
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Not wishing to repeat aforementioned embarrassing scenes in the gym, and the fact that I wear a Marks & Spencers ‘Bruce Willis’ sleeveless shirt, I decided to go for the armpits……..with a razor. This, as you maybe aware, is not perhaps, a regular male activity – I think. (Good time for a poll, perhaps?). And just to add a bit more excitement and adventure to the situation – both my hands are still not recovered from the Carpal Tunnel ops, and my right shoulder is still stiff & awkward to move. So…….where do you start, eh? I know all you girlies have these secrets passed down from mother to daughter, or there’s something in your bottle of milk , (not us boys), at school, which contains a time-locked chemical that kicks in when you first pick up your super pinky Philips or Gillette scraping implement.
Ultimately, I approached this from a business point of view……..that didn’t work, so I decided just not to hack myself to death. With the aid of my long scissors from a Vidal Sassson hair kit I have………(It was half-price, okay? )…..I removed what I would have called – the ‘undergrowth’… If there is an actual word for the first lumps of hair you chop away from your armpits during this procedure – please let me know. I felt confident. As confident as having read the first few pages of an Ikea shelf unit instruction booklet, built half of it, and the found that the last three pages are in Swedish…….
It’s a strange thing shaving other parts of your body……for a man…..for me….other than my face. Wetting ones armpits, holding your arm in the air, and approaching it with a razor – is not a natural thing to do. That didn’t bother me that much. It was the balancing act involved. My shaving mirror, which has a magnified reverse side, and is one of those metal ones on a flexy arm, was incredibly useful in making sure my shaky right hand didn’t severe my left arm at the shoulder. What would I say at the Casualty Dept – “Yes doctor…..I…..er….slipped shaving” – nope. “Yes doctor….a rare armpit eating insect flew in the window……bit my arm off…….and…er…flew out again……maybe…?”. And I wonder if hospitals have a special ‘Male Armpit Ward’ ? Or would I get put in the general ‘Mixed Razor Laceration’ ward?
Okay, that armpit survived the scraping. But the right one…well…….The best way to describe how I got through it is to first go away and watch ‘ Scarface ’ with Al Pacino. There is a scene towards the start of the movie…..in a shower…involving himself…..and a chainsaw………I simply couldn’t keep my arm in the air – I had to grip onto the shower curtain rail. It was like watching a drunken chimpanzee wielding a very sharp object with no degree of accuracy. I opted for the ‘lets fill my armpit with shaving foam’ principle, then at least I won’t see the blood. Using the female precision that Xena Warrior Princess would use – I slashed blindly at my ever wilting armpit. How do you girls do all these things? Can you get armpits plucked or waxed or something? Damn it was dangerous work.....
The gym? Yeah – those armpits looked so cool in those full length mirrors during those all important stretching exercises :)
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