It's the Pits

I have a confession to make. I make this confession not for shock value, but mainly because of my plans to go to Water Taxi Beach this weekend. Odds are, I will not be wearing a shirt for a good deal of the time. And odds are, you will notice something a bit off: I have no underarm hair.

Let me explain. A couple weeks ago, I was hooking up with a girl, and she made a comment about my appearance. Like all comments girls make about my appearance, I accepted this one as gospel. These comments make you self-conscious about that particular feature forever, as the words run through your head over and over. One of my best girl friends once told me that I have "a big, Jewish nose." I have never looked at my nose the same way since.

I still remember her exact words that night: "good lord, it's like an enchanted forest in there." She was right. It was out of control. I'm Italian - hair grows on me like kudzu on a hot summer day. From that night forward, I became consumed with the appearance of my underarm hair.

The next day, I decided I should get it under control. I cropped it close, and soon discovered why women regularly shave their pits: it itched. It itched to all hell. The short, stubbly hair prickled my inner arm constantly. After two days of scratching like a monkey, I couldn't take it anymore. I shaved it all off. All of it. Not a hair to be seen. Smooth as a baby's bottom.

And so, a couple weeks later, I am still hairless. The stubble has grown back a couple times, only to itch again. One day, I will get over that hump, and my armpits will look more, um, masculine again. In the meantime, please don't stare.

2 Moments of Idiocy:

Anonymous Joy said...

Dude, you weren't hooking up with a girl. You were hooking up with a hooker. Don't lie to your dear readers...

5:11 PM  
Anonymous rebecca said...

"like kudzu on a hot summer day".

best. simile. ever.

9:06 PM  

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