The hair issue
ArtisHENDERSON sandydays@florida-weekly.com
India is easily the most depilated country in the world. Masters of the art of threading (a traditional method for removing hair using a cotton thread) and with their own spicy version of the Brazilian in Bombay, the country is crazy about hair removal. Not only do Indian women run through the usual rigors of legs-under armsbikini line like women in the west, but many Indian women also go as far as removing the hair from their arms.

From my American cultural perspective, I just can't imagine. I understand how smooth legs are sexy. But smooth arms? Definitely sounds like overkill to me.

What a surprise then when a man I was dating ran his finger down my forearm and asked, "Do you ever get rid of this?"

I blinked back at him, trying to decide if this was a joke, but his eyes were earnest under his creeping unibrow. As a matter of fact, he had quite a scouting party of dark hairs running between his eyes, and in a few years I could imagine them coming together, like the prehistoric land bridge across the Bering strait, uniting his left and right eyebrows in a seamless track of hair.

To this day, I still can't believe he had the nerve to call me out on my arm hair when he couldn't take the time to pluck ten hairs from between his brows. This discrepancy between male and female grooming - what I like to call "The Hair Issue" - never fails to rile me up. We live under a double standard of depilation, and women everywhere carry the heavy, hairy load.

Take, for example, the effort that goes into getting a woman ready for a day at the beach. Shaved legs are mandatory. Same goes for a smooth bikini line. Under arms, too. And that's not even taking into account the normal regimen of tweezing, waxing, and bleaching needed for regular maintenance. 

During a beach date, after I'd plucked and shaved and waxed all but my arm hair into oblivion, a suitor showed up with a two-day beard and an odd patch of hair on the back of his neck. It was small and furry, as if he were wearing a squirrel neck muff. I eyed it warily; the long hairs ruffled in the breeze.

On our beach towels, he rolled onto his stomach and tossed a bottle of SPF 30 in my direction. "Hey, would you mind putting sunscreen on my back?"

I grimaced. The lotion was cool in my hand as I rubbed his back, tactfully avoiding the pelt.

"Did you get up around my neck?" he asked.

I steeled my nerves and rubbed between his shoulder blades. It was like putting sunscreen on a bunny.

Somewhere during that day, I started to reflect on the unfair demands of female grooming. Or, more appropriately, the lack of rules about male grooming.

Let me, then, issue a heart-felt plea on behalf of women across the globe: Men, if  you are going to demand a level of smooth-leggedness (or -armedness) from your dates, please return the courtesy and practice some manscaping of your own. No one likes a beard burn, and we could all do with a little trimming of the fur.

Contact Artis

>>Send your dating tips, questions, and disasters to sandydays@florida-weekly.com