Apparently those who keep track of such things have determined that hairy chests are coming back in. Yeah, I know, who knew that they were ever out. I'm all over hair on men. I want my man to look like a man, his legs and chest and face should be hairier than mine. I like manly men.
And I guess the knowers-of-useless-knowledge say that is the reason. The age of the metrosexual is gone, no more sensitive guys for us. We're going caveman. Whatever forces out there (ecomony, weather, age, hormones) control our preferences are pushing us toward the hunter-type of yore. The warrior. The Manly Man. And the manly man has hair.
Since the average person on the street doesn't display or see chest hair (unless he is a gorilla, and then we don't WANT to see- there is such a thing as too MUCH of a good thing), lets talk about the male hair we do see.
Before I go on- I do need to clarify that not all manly men have facial hair- that doesn't mean they aren't manly men. Manly men just don't have chest-hairdos like they have fair-hairdos, so we have nothing to talk about.
face hair comes in many different varieties, and I like them all- full beard is great, long or short is fine, just don't do the Capt. Jack Sparrow thing and make it into tiny braids with beads. Neat and clean please. I can run my fingers thru it, and you can tickle me in all sorts of interesting places with it.
the moustache is nice too, just make sure you have enough hair to sport one, 16 hairs below your nose is NOT a 'stache. Let me get my tweezers and deal with that problem. I personally like the feeling of kissing a guy with a moustache, but I understand it was not for everyone- my mom told dad she'd divorce him if he grew one. He never did, and they will be celebrating 50 years of wedded (mostly) blisss this year. He did however grow a beard for a while- Abe Lincoln style, he actually looked like Honest Abe, when we showed pictures of him, folks would do a double take wondering how we got the 16th president in our living room. \
The we get into all the variations -- the goatee beard only, no 'stache, no 'burns; Sideburns a la Elvis; the soul patch a small polka dot of hair just below the bottom lip on NASCAR drivers and 20-something kids; the vandyke beard and 'stache, no 'burns; fu-manchu moustache, handle bar moustache, (sigh).
What ever variety of fuzzy face you choose, the only caveat is to make sure you have the hairs to grow is. We should NOT see skin between the hair. And the scruffy look can only be pulled off by some specialized type of men-- fat rednecks cannot pull it off, they will just look redneckier. Athletic college boys with charming personalities and clean neat clothes can.
OH, and if you want to make sure that your wife/girlfriend/shack-up doesn't end up wearing Department of Corrections orange (it's not a good fashion statement) and you don't end up 6 feet under with a nice marble rock- CLEAN THE SINK after you shave. We like little tiny hairs growing out of your face, not decorating the sink and counter.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The cost of kindness
There is a lovely resident at our assisted living, I had met her YEARS ago through one of the organizations I joined as a young bride. She wasn't a regular attendee of these meetings but at some point we did meet, and I know (knew) who, at least one of her boys was because he was a retired big-wig in our state level organization.
I'm going to call this lovely resident Shirley, Shirley Goodness. We don't have any residents named Mercy, but Shirley makes up for it- Shirley Goodness shall follow me all the hours of my shift.
As happens with those that are youth-challenged, they become forgetful. Shirley has even forgotten who's forgetful. Every night, she asks me if she can go to bed now- starting at 6:15 when she leaves the supper table - and every night I tell her, not yet, I will come and get her ready when it's her bedtime. And every night she asks me "you won't forget me, will you?" or she says , "Now, don't forget me". It becomes a regular litany. Everytime I pass by her room, sometimes she even comes looking for me to recite her litany.
When my boys, Bob, Bob and Bob, were little and they would start in on their litanies... 'are we there yet?', 'when are we gonna go [insert activity in vogue here]', I could respond with something very parental, like "Don't make me stop this car" or "we can still go back home", or the all time horror phrase, "If you ask me again, we won't be going anywhere". This technique works well with children. But just imagining the major meltdown that Shirley Goodness would have if I told her "If you ask me again, I won't put you to bed at all" lets me know that this is one instandce that requires ME to cool my jets.
So I smile, tell her (again) how many minutes it will be until I"m there to help and remember not too long ago when she came into the hallway and asked me to "get rid of that man I don't like". With visions of mobsters and tommy-guns ( 'he had it coming....') I was invited into her room, with an impatient sweep of her hand, she pointed out the man I was to get rid of. A push of the power button on the TV , and I had 'gotten rid' of an unwanted man. And Shirley Goodness thanked me profusely.
Too bad we can't get rid of all our problems so easily. Too bad acts of kindness aren't always so simple or quick. But, whatever their cost, they are always worth every effort and the time.
I'm going to call this lovely resident Shirley, Shirley Goodness. We don't have any residents named Mercy, but Shirley makes up for it- Shirley Goodness shall follow me all the hours of my shift.
As happens with those that are youth-challenged, they become forgetful. Shirley has even forgotten who's forgetful. Every night, she asks me if she can go to bed now- starting at 6:15 when she leaves the supper table - and every night I tell her, not yet, I will come and get her ready when it's her bedtime. And every night she asks me "you won't forget me, will you?" or she says , "Now, don't forget me". It becomes a regular litany. Everytime I pass by her room, sometimes she even comes looking for me to recite her litany.
When my boys, Bob, Bob and Bob, were little and they would start in on their litanies... 'are we there yet?', 'when are we gonna go [insert activity in vogue here]', I could respond with something very parental, like "Don't make me stop this car" or "we can still go back home", or the all time horror phrase, "If you ask me again, we won't be going anywhere". This technique works well with children. But just imagining the major meltdown that Shirley Goodness would have if I told her "If you ask me again, I won't put you to bed at all" lets me know that this is one instandce that requires ME to cool my jets.
So I smile, tell her (again) how many minutes it will be until I"m there to help and remember not too long ago when she came into the hallway and asked me to "get rid of that man I don't like". With visions of mobsters and tommy-guns ( 'he had it coming....') I was invited into her room, with an impatient sweep of her hand, she pointed out the man I was to get rid of. A push of the power button on the TV , and I had 'gotten rid' of an unwanted man. And Shirley Goodness thanked me profusely.
Too bad we can't get rid of all our problems so easily. Too bad acts of kindness aren't always so simple or quick. But, whatever their cost, they are always worth every effort and the time.
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