Men have it made.
Women see one stray hair peeking out of their shorts that sends them running hysterically to their leg waxer.
Men on the other hand go through life all furry thoroughly accepted in society like loose zoo animals.
What brought this on?
A guy I saw at the track…the running track, not the race track. Don’t want you to think I’m spending my afternoons in a big hat nagging some nag.
He was the hairiest man I had ever seen walking with a gorgeous girl who had, I would say, a good twenty piercings. She looked like a very pretty pin cushion. I thought he should come with a warning label: DANGEROUS WHEN WET.
I was reminded of Mr. Delucci, the father of two childhood friends, Mandy and Janet. A handsome man of Greek decent with enough fur on his back and arms to make him an endangered species….like the guy would have been shot on site in any town in Maine.
We’d watch him mow the lawn, his shirtless chest dripping with matted perspiration.
Why didn’t Mrs. Detucci just shave him the same way she did their poodle Snowflake? When you’re eight you really can’t understand why adults don’t just make things easier on themselves, like when we took our shirts off to run under the sprinkler.
The guy at the track wasn’t as good looking as Mr. Detucci, but they could have been identical mufflers in the amount of hair they both had.
The word for this is hirsute, which aptly means hairy… they described him as unusually large and hirsute…shaggy, bushy, hair-covered; woolly, furry, fleecy, fuzzy; bearded, unshaven, bristly.
Makes you want to break out into the soundtrack of HAIR, doesn’t it?
I strolled behind this circus-like couple really wanting to ask, what’s it like being so follicly endowed (yes I coined a word), but was once again rescued by my good manners.
Maybe she likes men who dub as comforters…he’s probably warm and cozy…though I bet she has to leave the air on full blast whenever he’s around.
We’re already in July don’t forget.
Oh come on, where’s your sense of humor?