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Grooming Your Chops & Wiener Patch Bonus

“Manliness consists not in bluff, bravado or loneliness. It consists in daring to do the right thing and facing consequences whether it is in matters social, political or other. It consists in deeds not words.”
~Mahatma Gandhi~

As a very serious university student who prided myself in my ability to be objective, I wrote, and presented a paper on “Love” for a religious studies class. Love? what is love but a bio-chemical reaction and instinctual perpetuation of the species?  I focussed on evolutionary theories of male/female relationships.

Men were hunter gatherers, bred to be sly, silent and killers of beasts. Women were socialized to reproduce and  nurture the community through communication and preparing nutritious food from woolly mammoth bones.  In some cultures multiple partners ensured men never knew who their own offspring were, so they just provided for everyone. How lovely.

We’re in the twenty-first century now, and there have been a number of articles, studies and theories about the waning necessity of men. After all, women no longer need a big, strong, male with a larger proportion of muscle mass to go out and wrestle woolly mammoths to drag  back to the home fires.  Women have better educations, and although still fall short of pay equity, can maintain their own homes and provide for their children all on their own.

One could argue that because of the extinction (other than sperm to perpetuate the species) of the necessity of men, we’ve seen increased media pressure for men to meet an aesthetic ideal. After all, igniting wild pheromones in the opposite sex might actually ensure ‘his’ survival.

Looking at Details’ Special Grooming Guide, I will make an opposing argument. We are feminizing our men. We are waxing them smooth, selling them the equivalent of summer frocks in multiple ‘in style’ suits, ties and footwear.

I look at the short piece on”How to Get The Perfect Shave Every Time“, with no fewer than 16 man’sthetics. 16! Most women do with fewer accessories for a full make-up application.  The photo shows a tousel-haired man with shaving cream on his face, a razor poised to make the next swipe, and a white towel draped around his neck. Subtly sexy.

There are few things more sexy, more arousing than watching a man shave. It’s something we women don’t do. Well, except the bearded lady that was one of my great-aunt’s friends, but that’s another story for my therapist. Shaving is something very masculine. Kinda like standing up to pee in that macho one-hand-on-the-beast, the other hanging nonchalantly at your side, fly open, and pants hanging from your thrusting hips pose that only men can do.  These are two things that I will never be able to do, and that’s why I love you and want to kiss your freshly shaven, smooth, yummy smelling skin. I don’t want to kiss layers of moisturizer, fragrance and wrinkle cream. If I wanted that, I’d kiss the day care-lady. Bleck!

Then there’s waxing. Sure, I’m just like the next woman. The thought of seeing Channing Tatum take it all off in Magic Mike makes me tingle in the warm and lovely places that I wax. Hollywood has capitalized on his defined pecs, highlighted by a smoothly oiled wax job.

The reality of it is completely different. I have had the good fortune to snuggle next to very masculine chests ranging from smooth as a baby’s bottom to completely hair inhabited.  Do I have a preference? Of course. Just like I have a preference for circumcised or not-circumcised.

Most women’s basic preference is NOT CACTUS-PRICKLY. Cuddling next to a man who trims too close to the skin, or waxes, always results in a big ol’ prickly cactus. No woman wants to rub up against or snuggle that.  Special note here, same goes for your weiner patch. Groom, don’t shave. It’s like  humping a hairbrush.

Although the name “Nuxe Creme Fraiche de Beaute Formule Light” appeals to my vain nature, hearing a man sing the praises of the product would certainly affect how attractive he is to the opposite sex. Non Monsieur. Non, non, non. Merci, mais non.

So think about it gents. Think about the fine balance between making the most of your assets as you prep for a long weekend of hot summer wooing. We want yummy smelling, clean, strong, intelligent manly-men. We are feminine, and don’t need vain-girly-men  to balance out the energy in our lives. Don’t misunderstand me – do take care of yourself; work out,go for a massage, even a pedicure. Heck, we’ve evolved, and every woman loves a bit of a renaissance man.

Long, long ago, and far, far away, I dated a charming foreigner who dressed well, complete with cufflinks and coiffed hair. He was stylish and masculine. He, ironically wore the same ‘rare’ cologne of my previous beaux. I loved that he was tall, strong, and worldly. He had a wicked sense of humour, and took care of things.

And then it happened. It was sleep over time for an extended stay. I learned his dirty little secret. He panicked when he ran out of Clarins. I mean absolutely had-to-make-me-go-to-the-beauty-counter for him to buy the multiple products for his skin care regime. Having him tear up over his five step skin care regime was about as sexy as socks on a rooster. He was reduced to tears over the thought of showing his age. ‘Buddy’, I thought to myself, ‘I’ve seen you naked from the waste down. Skin cream isn’t going to save you.’

The bottom line – let yourself  be physically manly in a subtle, simply groomed way. Let yourself be emotionally available, and then, and only then gentlemen, will you be irresistable. Millions of products manvertised in your men’s mags won’t ever give you that kind of raw sex appeal.

Often, I have been complimented on my own skin. I believe it’s because I keep it simple. Soap, moisturizer and drinking lots of water. Ok, ok, the extra chub in my cheeks also smooths out the wrinkles. Oh yah, sex is a wonderfully fun and inexpensive way to get a little glow too. That’s the real secret.

Creative Writing · Entertainment · Fashion · Girl Stuff · Health · Life · Relationships · Singles · Uncategorized · Women's Issues · Writing

Turn out the Lights and Be Beautiful

An 1889 Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec painting of ...
An 1889 Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec painting of a woman applying cosmetics to her face (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today, dressed in spandex capris and an oversized orange “VOLUNTEER” T-shirt, I bumped into an acquaintance of mine.  I was gob-smacked when she said, “Wow! You look terrific. It’s like you’re ten years younger!” I was taken aback. I’d been up since 6am, and out in the sun all day encouraging 160KM GranFondo cyclists  just after the 100km mark. I even went so far as to massage one rider’s cramping gams.

My eye make-up had settled into the laugh lines around my eyes, and I’d skipped my foundation and rouge altogether. We remarked it was likely dumping the 170 lbs of baggage of my last relationship, laughed, and carried on our way to sit next to a team of very handsome, very lithe and muscular cyclists. Seeing as her compliment gave me a confidence boost, I wiggled in between two of the cutest, and started a very engaging conversation about the ’cause’ we were there to support. I certainly wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, and I lingered, enjoying the conversation and the view.

You see, Sundays are usually my newspaper days, but this weekend was different. Saturday my volunteer duties were pretty light.   That meant that I had time to read the newspaper. On a Saturday. Imagine that.   The Globe is my weekend paramour. So much my sweetheart, that if I were a man, she would definitely be my Saturday night girl.  I would buy her sparkling jewels and make love to her into the wee hours of the morning….

Alas, the Globe is simply a newsrag, so there is no lovemaking. I settled in on my little patio with the Arts section and a nice glass of a new Scottish Ginger Beer that’s struck my fancy of late.  An article about the new Sarah Polley film, “Take This Waltz” caught my eye. A large photo of starlet Michelle Williams centred the article.  It was a well written piece in which Williams waxes philosophical about the deeper meaning of her acting, discussing how romantic love has replaced spiritual love in our life and times. But let’s not discuss that. I’m sure my wee little double x chromosome brain would become overwhelmed, and I would succumb to a case of the vapours.

In “Take This Waltz”, Williams’s character Margot is a woman, “…in the midst of realizing that the person she once was is not the person she wants to be.” No kidding. Really? Don’t we all arrive at that barren crossroads at least once or twice in our adult lives? I know I’ve arrived at the corner of  Where-the-heck-am-I and How-on-earth-did-I-get-Here, at least twice.

Isn’t it just when we realize we are alone at this crossroads, that we have a feeling of both physical and emotional nakedness? Don’t we feel vulnerable, a bit shabby, and insecure? Say yes ladies. You know it, and the big bad consumer munching wolf knows it, hence, the Style section of the newspaper.

I almost choked on my Crabbies reading about  Lise Watier’s nod to the boomer generation who may be needing some extra ‘illumination’ at this crossroads.  They are marketing (very brilliantly I might add) nail polish and lip gloss complete with built-in lighting.   Playing right into the hands of all of the women out there who, despite being, “…in the midst of realizing that the person she once was is not the person she wants to be” still want to hussy up the gifts that the good lord gave them and be perceived as a woman who is exactly who she wants to be.

I can’t waggle my finger and look over the top of my glasses at women who want to look their best. After all, I rarely leave the house without make-up, and my wild hair is often the worst part of my day. I like to go out feeling confident too, but being confident, truly confident, is tangled up pretty tightly with  being happy.

So, today when my gal-pal gave me that compliment, it wasn’t because my hair was freshly salon coiffed, or I was sporting a coveted logo. I believe my joie de vivre morphed into something that has become part of my physicality. Simply put, when she saw me today,I was happy.   

This morning I left my house at 6:45am, and arrived home finally just after 8:30pm. Laundry on, my teenager scrubbing the dust of practice off, and lunches yet to be packed, I scrambled into my running gear and did a quick 5km. Nazareth came on, reminding me of my university days when my roommate used to get up early and drive me to the varsity gym to do my daily circuit workouts. A picture of me from our last Christmas together as roommates flashed through my mind; long, strong legs in a pair of shorts and my hair wrapped in a towel in front of our Christmas tree striking a silly pose. I looked young, healthy, strong and beautiful. I was all of those things then, but I didn’t feel them. 

Time works a strange magic though. Although my legs are still strong, they’re not as shapely as they once were. My face has filled out, as has every other part of my body. My skin isn’t as radiant, but I feel, at this age more strong and more beautiful than I did  16 years ago.  Still, my friend’s  compliment today perked me up. Just think, today I didn’t even need to use my emergency make-up lighting.