Hairiest Man I Know

As noted here recently, I’m an avid fan of the daily comics. The other day, I read in the “Sherman’s Lagoon” strip about us “hairless beach apes,” that is, human beings. The trouble is, as I have reported here before, I’m presumably human, but I’m anything but hairless.

The only places on my body that I don’t grow hair are my forehead, the palms of my hands, and my feet. Literally everywhere else on my body is hairy. When I was a young man and my body hair was dark brown or black, my hairiness was something of an embarrassment. But now, as I am aging, my body hair is mostly white. That means it doesn’t show nearly as much. I get far fewer comments on my hairiness than I did as a forty-year-old.

 I tried once shaving a small section of my chest to see if the hair would grow back. It did. Thicker and darker than ever. I never tried that again.

So here I am. “I’m just a hairy guy,” as the song “Hair” says, quoted here by me not too long ago. Being hairy is supposed to be a masculine trait, but when it’s this bad it isn’t sexy any more. It’s just peculiar. Fortunately, in every other respect, I’m just an average guy.

And if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge I’d like to sell you.

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