WARNING: THIS IS A FRANK DESCRIPTION OF MY SUGARING EXPERIENCE.
This living alone thing is getting on my tits. My new nice smooth tits to be precise. Had I not been such a stupid vain old queen and shaved myself some weeks ago, it would be perfectly smooth, smoother than my now freshly smooth baby’s what-not. The problem is if hairs are shaved, they do not regrow at an even rate. They regrow at a very uneven rate. So although there was a mini lawn in progress, there is some undergrowth that is not doing its bits.
However, this has nothing to do with clocks. As I said, this living alone thing is getting on my nice smooth tits. As I don’t buy a newspaper like I used to and the “Today” Saturday programme is atrocious and more tabloid than weekdays, Tim Towers is almost media free, apart from iPlayer, DVDs, and scanning through and commenting/pontificating on the Guardian website. So I was not subjected to the constant hectoring of, “and don’t forget to put your clocks back”. I do have a fall back option though. I keep the radio alarm to come on at 5.30 every day of the week. It’s doesn’t have a range of sophisticated alarms (on or off), but it works well enough.
So in future, dear reader, I expect you to gently remind me that the clocks are changing. After all I am only a feeble old widower.
Now, back to my smooth tits and associated matters. The back was a walk in the park, relatively speaking. It is very pleasant for me to see myself in the mirror now without those horrid wispy hairs sprouting and generally looking unpleasant. The bum is more sensitive the further one gets from where one would expect it to hurt more, given the way I think of the way the body and the nervous system works. This is where a better knowledge and memory of the sensory homunculus would have been useful. Chest and was more of a problem. The nearer one is to the bone the more it hurts, also the solar plexus is a very important part of our body and the hair removal from there hurt like buggery. So apart from my stupid efforts at shaving I am am smoother than a baby’s you know where.
Removing hair is a good thing as one can have ingrowing hairs which can need surgery to resolve. This doesn’t happen to every male, but I have known of three people who had to have back surgery due to this, so it is part vanity and part prevention. It also feels bloody gorgeous. Honest, I feel so much younger.
If you feel you have had too much information already, despite the warning (you are a curious old devil aren’t you?) then pass over the rest of this blog.
If you haven’t worked how the title of this blog and this section are intertwined and are leading , then you must be a prude, a nun, or pre-pubescent. In which case, go no further. I am moving on to “the naughty bits”.
Male vanity is something I relate to big time (no pun intended, but read on). Us chaps have an ability to grow hair. The downside of this is the longer the hair the more it makes everything go out of proportion. So trimming helps as does removal. a mixture of the two has the desired result. The Goldicocks appearance (sadly I didn’t coin this, I saw it elsewhere on the web).
Whoever thinks women are vain really does need a reality check. Women look through shop windows, men look at their reflections in shop windows as they are constantly on the pull and making sure they look, just so. The women have already decided upon and chosen their appearance. I am, of course, not referring to the girls who have to do their make-up on the tube every morning, but to the ladies who know that the mysteries of war paint and its application are best kept behind the closed doors of the boudoir.
We have now got rid of the missing consonant. It is time to move on. Oh yes. There. Oh no. Now body image is one thing, reality is another. In a strange way, this has brought me to an understanding of my mother’s predicament after her mastectomy. What I have had done to myself was necessary as an experiment, but not only that, I am now experiencing a pain in one part of my anatomy where nature’s way felt wrong. It may have been OK as a caveman running around in animal skins, or for Adam in the Garden of Eden to have hair here there and everywhere, but doesn't feel right for 21st Century Tim.
Incidentally, I don’t think I seen many depictions of Adam and Eve pre-apple where body, let alone pubic hair is visible. This leads me to consider if the current trend for smoothness was also rampant during the Renaissance when naked bodies were permissible subjects. Think Sistine Chapel, think near naked Sebastians, except for a bit of cloth, sometimes only a scrap of cloth, arrows piercing their bodies. Perhaps it was my youthful exposure to such images that built up in my young mind I must now be freakish being one of nature’s Yetis. Maybe I should ask the administrators to change my name to Sebastian. I also know this body look is also tied in with swimmers I saw in TV at the Tokyo Olympics (there, that does date me). I was fascinated by the physique and power and ability, and also it wasn’t a team sport, how I loathed football at school, I was always in the last half dozen or so to be chosen.
Any road up, as Julian would say (oh dear, the children need help here, Round the Horne, Julian and Sandy, oh Lord, is there hope for the young?) as I was getting a seeing to, I thought this is the most undignified position I have been in and I am aware you ladies have been in worse. Despite my stripper’s gentleness and warnings and general all round skills, I am not sure I wish to repeat that exercise. He was lovely but I think I will look at the more expensive electrical means of keeping myself in order round there. The pain at the time was not exquisite, neither is the discomfort now!
So, am I glad I did it? Yes. Will I do it again? Yes, with my caveats in place. I will give the legs some thought. If it was good enough for the swimmers at Tokyo 50 years ago, it’s good enough for me, I think. They did it as amateurs to shave (sometimes literally) as much time off their timings. The look is good, it is the road travelled to get to the site (or do I mean sight?) that is problematical.
Talking of clocks, while typing all this lot, my reminders have been popping up I need to buy more lottery tickets as I have, as usual, won not a lot. I have also joined the office syndicate. I would hate to think of them winning millions and I am left behind. That would hurt more than the physical pain I am still feeling right now!
