Yeah...that's pretty much it...

...in light of being blessed, I think I will grow my hair...

Insert superficial here…

I was having a long chat, as I do, with the lady who pours hot wax on my skin and tears strips off me – and I pay for it – yes, madness does abound in the Jones family – and we were talking about her clients and the weird things they do and want. Its fascinating stuff and excellent conversation despite the circumstances. Anyway we were talking about men and what they have waxed – amazing things that I had never contemplated before - and waxing their backs came up. Neither she nor I could fathom why some women – insert superficial here – object to body hair on a man. What is that about? Who is so frigging perfect that they can point at another and demand perfection?

Have you ever noticed in romance novels that men rarely have hair anywhere? Is it a requirement to be hairless in order to be loved? Here’s the conclusion we came to. We like men to be men. We expect a certain rough masculinity because essentially a man is a man and we like that he’s not a Ken doll. You want him to wax his back for you? How would you react if he tells you to lose weight, have a Brazilian or have your boobs done before he will love you? Think you’re perfect? I can guarantee you’re not. Remember that when you expect someone to change for you.

Throw back...

It occurred to me today as I sat at the hairdresser getting blonde foils put through my hair while watching another woman have four hours worth of hair extensions put in and another have the teasing combed carefully out of her hair – it was teased in the name of a beauty pageant – puh-lease – while I read about some overweight C grade Aussie celebrity who dropped her clothes to prove that being fat and naked was beautiful and I realized as women we have no idea what beauty is. We are guided by nonghead celebrities trying to gain fame, the age we are and whether some man will want us with more hair or less hair. Sad really. What is beauty? A smile. A kiss. A flower. A kind word. It ain’t got nothing to do with your hair, face, arse or a man. It was a good reminder for me. Hair dye, extensions or body parts don’t maketh the woman and if that catcheth the man then he ain’t worth catching. Throw him back.