Lady Gaga, Adam Lambert and a Fat Fairy

This past weekend I attended a fabulous star studded birthday party and had the most fun I had in a long time. Rubbing shoulders with the likes of Lady Gaga, Adam Lambert, the Kardashians and John Galliano (to mention but a few) the evening was filled with laughter, booze and 430 paparazzi photographs. Yes as all parties go with “celebrities” the paparazzi was a tad overly eager when it came to the pictorials. And it is these pictorials that opened my eyes to a few not so small changes I urgently need to make before summer.

Saturday hubby and I attended the 40th birthday party of a very good friend of ours. It was a theme party and the brief was to come as your alter ego. Quite a challenging brief and many of the attendees were in a panic a few days prior as discovering your alter ego is more difficult than it may sound. Luckily Google, costume shops and creative makeup techniques lend a hand and came Saturday evening everyone left their homes and arrived at the venue as someone else, much to the delight of the other guests.

The guest of honor arrived as the Absence Fairy and her husband as Jack Sparrow. Other guest included Gary the Tooth Fairy, Zorro, a French Maid, a Playboy Bunny and various representatives of the Armed Forces. With a punch potent enough to be considered illegal this social lubricant did what it was intended for and the group was soon relaxed and all were in a party mood. As the drinks flowed and dancing started Gary the Tooth Fairy and his boyfriend Zorro decided to be the unofficial paparazzi for the evening. While sitting across from Adam Lambert who was gnawing at his nails like a squirrel a nut (to get the Paris Hilton nail polish off) the paparazzi was happily flashing away.

As the evening progressed the party became livelier and the flashing of cameras seemed less intimidating. To say that the guest of honor ended up dancing in the Jacuzzi should suffice in describing the extent of our inebriation, and the fact that all our shenanigans where documented by the paparazzi without any objection, at the time, should further support in this explanation. At around 2am and several coffees later hubby and I headed home and the greater part of Sunday was spent nursing our massive hangovers, swearing of tequila, absence and whatever other alcoholic beverages we have ever had in our lives.

As our heads cleared the faint memory of flashes soon stirred some concern. “Oh my God, did we do anything or were we at all embarrassing?” I worryingly asked hubby to which he responded “If we were I am sure there are pictures!!!” With great apprehension I logged onto Facebook (the portal for mass and immediate embarrassment) and to my relief at 2pm on Sunday no damning photos. Relieved I conveyed the good news to hubby and then his phone rings – it’s the Absence Fairy! “430 photos you’re kidding me, is it going onto the Internet? Oh Nooo!” was the words the almost stopped my heart.

Being pretty sure, but not convinced, that we behaved I had to wait until Monday before the first batch of party photos found their way onto Facebook. Somewhat concerned I opened the party photo album and was horrified!!! You see there are some photos that’s far worse and more embarrassing than any drunken, puking or passed out picture – there were fat photos that make me look 3 months pregnant!!!

“OK, so I haven’t been to the gym in just under a year, but I have been busy and I have had some stress and I am an emotional eater” I whispered to myself in a quivering voice with my cats staring at me with concerned eyes. Looking at some of those photos my denial that I have been packing on some winter blubber was utterly obliterated and I had to face the ugly truth – I got fat! Gaining weight is evil; it’s a gradual process of which you and those who see you often hardly notice until one day. A day your pants no longer fit, you notice a second chin instead of one, a day you see yourself in a photo that not even excessive airbrushing can fix!

With the shock of my weight gain and spring in the Southern Hemisphere of this lovely planet only 7 days away I decided to pull myself together and start a transformation. Today I had my face botoxified (again) and my frown lines filled. Saturday I will have my winter fur ripped out of their follicles and on Monday I will be returning to the palace of torture and I will be sweating and toiling my fat away until till I am ripped again. I will not be like Oprah, and this time I will keep the weight off. Now all that’s left is to get rid of the evidence of this my second fat phase.

Till next time.

ALEJANDRO PARODY! 

The Collagen Palace

They say beauty is only skin deep and true beauty comes from the inside. However, some of us need a little help when it comes to the “skin deep” department. I have just gone for my Botox touch-up at another one of those Collagen Palaces that promise the fountain of youth with a few injections, peels, lasers and surgery. After my little procedure I left wondering why we so eagerly pursue beauty and whether I now too may have crossed the line in joined a group of people that would pay large amounts of money to cling to youth for as long as possible.
My first Botox treatment was earlier this year and as I vividly described on my blog it was a pleasant experience and the benefits aesthetically pleasing. When I was due for my touch up I decided to go to another plastic surgeon that was recommended to me by a friend. All excited I called her office and to my great disappointment the first appointment I could get was only in three months time. Being quite surprised the overly friendly and slightly annoyingly happy sounding receptionist told me they could place me on a “cancelation waiting list”. So two weeks passed before I got a call informing they had a cancellation and I could be helped the very next day.

Arriving at the surgeons offices I was amazed at the magnitude of her operation and facilities. It was a one-stop-shop where you could get anything done apart from major surgery. As one would expect from such an establishment the staff was immaculately dressed and all had a little something done from Botox, collagen to fillers. Walking towards the counter at reception I spotted the Prozac Queen who I had spoken to before. It should be illegal for one person to be so happy and I could not quite determine whether it was just her natural personality or chemically induced, either way if I had to spend a whole day with her I would be forced to staple her lips shut.
After completing the normal paper work I was escorted to the waiting area where I joined a couple of middle aged women all engrossed in the little pamphlets of the different procedures the facility offers. The conversations they had resembles that of people discussing a restaurant menu the only difference was they were discussing chemical peels, body sculpting, facelifts, Botox and vaginal rejuvenations. It seems that apart from the normal nips and tucks of ones flabby bits you can now also get a younger vagina. What will be next a testicular lift and/or penis rejuvenation? Not wanting to listen to how their privates have been tightened I decided to go for a smoke and wait for my turn at the outside coffee shop area.
When my turn came the permanently surprised looking and cheerful receptionist collected me and ushered me into the Dr’s consulting room. My face was examined, the procedure discussed and this time fillers was also introduced into my age delaying chemical recipe. I found the Dr very pleasant and genuinely sincere in her approach. After every possible frown was reproduced, my facial muscles examined and frown line inspected she took out an array of syringes and meticulously placed them on a small table next to the bed. As usual the Botox injections were relatively painless, but when it came to the fillers it was a slightly different story. The best way to describe filler injections is like being stung by a small bee with the slight burning sensation lasting only a few seconds - kind of painful but nothing that would cause a ghastly scream. The other queer thing about fillers is that you can actually feel the thin line if you stroke your finger over the treated area and this really grossed out my hubby.

During the procedure the Dr and I had a nice chat. She told me about the wide range of clients she has and to my surprise she told me of two very well known International Airlines (the names of which I will omit out a fear of being sued) sends their cabin crew to her when they are in South Africa to get Botox and fillers done. Apparently these airlines pays for the procedures and all their staff members that deal with the public are encouraged to undergo these treatments on a regular basis. It’s seems having a flawless and youthful appearance are part of their job description – what a great perk to have. We also discussed the reason people have cosmetic procedures done and from her answer I concluded everybody does it for their own personal reasons, some out of vanity and others out of necessity.
So why do I get Botox you may ask? After some pondering I realized to a certain degree vanity does play a role in my motivation, but mostly it is because if I can delay the effects of aging why not. I do take pride in my appearance. Even though of late I again gained some weight and unlike Oprah my blog readership does not increase with every pound I gain, I still take care of myself and do plan on shaking off the extra pounds and could even inject some of the fat into other parts of my body – Yes, people do that for all of those who just gasped in horror! My decision to get Botox also has a lot to do with the fact that my frown lines made me look unfriendly and every time someone bores me, talks nonsense or when I get annoyed I tend to frown betraying my concerted efforts to hide my true feelings from who ever is sitting across from me in a meeting. Another and final reason for me joining the Botox Band Wagon early is to stay away from the surgeon’s knife for as long as possible as preventative measures, in my opinion, are always the best.

After my touch-up and having had my eyes opened to the other side of cosmetic procedures I honestly don’t think I will go over board and make my visit to the youth fountain a monthly excursion. A visit once in a while (when needed) and in moderation is the healthier option for me. After all I don’t want to end up looking like some of the freaks you see on Dr 90210 or the E channel’s Top 100 Worst Plastic Surgeries. When I look into the mirror in ten years time I still want to be able to recognize the person I see looking back at me.

Till next time.

Robin Williams Plastic Surgery

Strike a Pose!

With the much anticipated unveiling of what could be the next biggest trend in men’s hair fashion (the “V” cut) I participated in my 2nd only photo shoot in my 32 years on this planet. Not being an oil painting nor being very photogenic the prelude to this big day, I was frantically trying to shed a extra few pounds as they say the camera adds 10 pounds and I was consumed with nervous tension (after all this face wasn't made for television and is more suited for radio or the print media). So I was left with the gnawing question– will I be able to play model for a day or will I crack under the pressure inflicting the same destructive force on the camera lens and photographer?

My 1st photo shoot was for my attempted television debut on the 1st ever Big Brother South Africa. This was many years ago but the memory of that Sunday afternoon is still vivid. The photo shoot was done on a couple of locations and I distinctly remember feeling increasingly foolish striking poses while the unsuspecting public were staring at this hive of activity, probably wondering who the hell I was not knowing that they may soon see me on television 24 hours a day for 3 months. I remember that the camera scared me and made me feel self-conscious about all parts of my body I perceived as being imperfect. I always hated my noose and therefore I found seeing profile pictures of me more frightening than watching the Exorcist on the big screen. The photo shoot went well and I was pleasantly surprised with the end result, but unfortunately the final decision by the producers of Big Brother excluded me from potential fame and knowing me also probable embarrassment. Like my husband says, sometimes you just can take me anywhere with my chronic “foot-mouth-disease”.

With the final countdown to the latest photo shoot I was making my way through peak hour traffic I came to the realization that what ever happens I must at all cost just relax and try having fun. Arriving at the shoot the atmosphere was relaxed. The skilled make up artist managed to artistically cover up my stress pimple that like Mt St Helens’ Volcano was threatening to erupt over night. She also managed to conceal all the nicks I had inflicted on myself with the previous morning’s shaving or rather carving disaster. My stylist who also happened to be the photographer did his magic with my hair and the signature “V” cut was perfected. I was ready for my close up! This would be my 1st shoot in a studio and it’s quite different from a location shoot. Everything appeared more confined and controlled. Unlike Naomi Campbell I was no diva and no personal assistants or housekeepers were harmed as there were none, besides I can’t afford throwing my phone at anyone or finance defending an assault law suit.

As the shoot started I was admittedly nervous in front of the camera. Having grown more mature since my last photo shoot, I have come to accept certain parts of my body that has become a good part frumpier than my Big Brother stint. A few well needed shots of social lubricant (aka strong liquor) relaxed me and the shoot progressed nicely. I am no natural therefore certain instructions on poses I found peculiar. Being said to manipulate your body into a position that feels totally unnatural, tilt your head in ways you have never done before and relax your lips was not something I was used to do. At one point having to keep a certain pose for up to a minute I could feel my leg muscles starting to shake, and I gained a lot more respect for professional models. Even though it felt queer posing in such precarious positions on camera it looked completely natural and hid all the little physical flaws and most importantly the much hated double chin. What more can a gay guy ask for!

Several wardrobe changes, themes and what felt like hundreds of photos later I actually started enjoying myself and my intense fear of the camera seemed like a distant memory. The other consolation was that if something didn’t look right at least there was the ultimate savior in the form of PHOTOSHOP! As my confidence grew adventurousness set in and the boundaries and inhibitions I had of what I was willing to do in front of the camera abated – I was now less concerned of showing a double chin and more focused on having fun even at the expense of looking like an absolute idiot. My husband was there for moral support and in certain photo’s a hand, an arm and a partial shot of his face can be seen. At the end of the day the creativity, confidence and freedom the photographer showed was contagious and it ended up being a very enjoyable experience.

Having survived my 2nd photo shoot I must admit that the experience was an eye opener. From being nervous of embarrassing myself I managed to cross a psychological barrier that prevented me from venturing beyond certain boundaries of being in total control of my outward appearance and entrusting my body to another person’s creative vision. The experience was scary, fun and at the end of the day very liberating. One thing is certain I am no professional model and the run ways of Paris and Milan will not grace my feet any time soon but having spend 4 hours in front of the camera I gained a new found confidence and my phobia of being photographed and having a Naomi Campbell epic breakdown was completely unfounded. This Diva is still utterly tame and harmless and the general public is safe for now.

Till next time.

HEDDA LETTUCE COVERS LADY GAGA'S POKER FACE

Death of the Metro-Sexual Man

Well, it is official South Africa is now also experiencing an economic recession but I don’t believe it will be as bad as the great depression of 1929 – I Googled it! Many of us will experience the economic recession in different ways and feel the pinch of it. As a gay man the recession has already impacted on my life. As most of you know the grooming rituals of the homosexual male is quite intriguing and complex. With our particular style of grooming I’d like to believe that we were responsible for the emergence of the Metro-sexual Male (heterosexual men with a strong concern for their appearance, and/or a lifestyle that displays attributes stereotypically related to gay men). This being said, I believe the recession is posing a tremendous threat not only to homosexual men but the recession is also killing the metro-sexual male!
As we tighten our belts and wallets and cut on seemingly unnecessary expenses I have noticed a decline in people spending money on personal grooming. There are fewer metro-sexual males on the street and most are reverting back to the Hugh Jackman look – sexy but unfortunate. People just aren't spending money on waxing, facials, manicures etc. The metro-sexual male has stopped visiting the Spa! It has gotten so bad that the Spa I use to go to closed down. My cosmetologist disappeared without leaving a forwarding number! Not everyone would see this as a crisis, but to me it is! That woman who have been waxing me for the last 2 years, seen me naked and ripped hair from parts of my body very few people get to see is gone. Finding someone else with whom I’d be comfortable being 95% naked with male/or female and someone that can do a full body wax in less than 1 hour will be a mission. In the mean time, I have grown hairy! I have gone from being smooth to what my husband now refers to as monkey boy - I am no Hugh Jackman! The economy is in a recession so I have rationalized the growing back of my “man hair” as my “winter fur” as we are in late autumn and I hope by spring the economy will have stabilized and I would have found someone to transform me back from primate to homo-sapien.
Not only are people replacing wax with razors they are also now compromising on their hair, opting for do-it-yourself hair coloring instead of having a professional do it - some even attempting to cut their own hair. I can hear the entire hairstylist community cringe in horror!!! Walking through the shopping malls I have seen the yellow hair that was supposed to be blond, the bad dye jobs and botched highlights. The once metro-sexual male with a tell tail barber shop hair cut; the men and women who on account of saving a penny here-and-there allowing those grey hairs to protrude through their once stunning colored hair. Experiencing a recession I understand that people have to cut expenses but at what cost? Personally, I’d rather go without that stunning pair of shoes or exquisite jacket than compromise on my hair.
The metro-sexual males also seem to fading into oblivion when it comes to fashion. The once growing section of enlightened heterosexual men are becoming more difficult to spot, as facial and body hair now disguise them and the only way of recognizing these diminishing few are with wardrobe. As I refuse to compromise with my hair by letting a fashion item elude me, the metro-sexual male seem to compromise not only on grooming but on fashion too. They no longer appear to pay attention current fashion and last years trends are recycled. Some metro-sexual men also seem not to be able to remember how to put an outfit together, as last years magazines have been thrown away. They walk around bearded and in mismatching attire - they are almost unrecognizable. At least gay men are finding ways to cope with the recession and are better at prioritizing our spending when it comes to grooming and fashion. We understand that you don’t have to down scale and deprive yourself of all things, a few compromises is enough to ride out this difficult economic time. It’s truly unfortunate that the world economy is experiencing a recession and that it’s finding its way into most countries. Having to adjust your spending patterns in order to be able to pay your bills, keep your head above water and hoping not to be retrenched as companies down scale is unpleasant. It truly is serious and for some a dire experience. As a gay male, seeing the effects of the recession around me makes me grateful for everything I have. It has caused me to also down scale, adjust my spending habits and compromise. But at least I can still keep some of my grooming rituals and maintain my gay attributes. The true tragedy is in gradual demise of metro-sexual male, whether they will survive the world wide economic crisis nobody knows. I hope they will not go extinct like the dodo, and once this is all said and done they’ll return. I truly hope the recession will not kill off our beloved metro-sexual males!

Till next time.

Wanda Sykes - Wanda & Bobby On a Plane

Botoxified

Every so often we find ourselves looking in the mirror and some of us find something small that we would like to change. For some people it’s their nose, others their teeth, wrinkles, sagging eyes, breasts or cheeks. Very few of us actually do something about it. Maybe it’s due to the cost associated with fixing our little flaws or maybe because some are ashamed. This week I decided to fix a little flaw I had, and decided to undergo a small and relatively painless cosmetic procedure. This experience had me question myself regarding vanity, whether I should be ashamed of having taken the next step to slowing the ageing process or whether I should stand up and be proud of it.

Now, I am no stranger to the world of cosmetic procedures, as I have had 1 yearly cosmetic touch-up ritual: For the past 5 years I have been bleaching my teeth, as being a smoker and having pearly whites are mutually exclusive. I have never been ashamed of bleaching my teeth as it's common practice amongst many of my peers. However, once it comes to having more cosmetic work done it starts becoming controversial - especially if you are only 31 years old! Being gay, and admittedly fighting the good fight against ageing, I have long ago begun researching non-invasive anti-ageing procedures but it’s only recently that I decided to take the next step to what, in my mind, I perceived to be total vanity!

For a long time I have been considering Botox but have always been too scared to go, as I have seen the pictures of the horror stories – and I didn’t want to be one of those expressionless monsters! Unfortunately, I have a tendency to frown upon a lot of things – literally! I frown when I am tired, when people annoy me, when I am angry, when people bore me, when I am pensive and when I am stressed. All this frowning has culminated in 2 very distinct and unflattering frown lines between my eyebrows and 2 very pronounced lines on my forehead. These combinations of frown lines not only make me look older but also have the tendency to make me look unfriendly. So after my husband politely told me to stop frowning while I was watching a documentary on television, I unconsciously made up my mind about fixing this behavioral pattern.

As I became more vocal on the subject matter of Botox in my social circle the Botox Closet opened and a few of my closeted Botox friends revealed themselves. I was amazed, as I never suspected any of them of having had it done. I always thought all Botoxians looked like Nicole Kidman! I was pleasantly surprised to find my friends still able to express emotions adequately and they all have a distinct refreshed and rested look. So I had to get their doctor’s number!

Calling up the plastic surgeon, his secretary answered and I requested an appointment. She asked me what it was for, and in a shy voice I answered “It’s for Botox” (expecting some kind of surprised response which luckily didn’t materialize). It’s astonishing how many times I changed my mind about showing up for my appointment. Even on my way to the Dr I found myself questioning my motive for getting the procedure done, questioning myself about issues of vanity and whether I was still too young to start down this, what I had convinced myself as being, a slippery path to cosmetic addiction.

I mustered the courage to make it to the consultation room and soon found myself face-to-face with myself holding a mirror explaining to the Dr where my flaws were. He had me frown over and over again, while making several markings on my forehead. I was visibly nervous, not so much of the needles and what lay ahead, but because I feared something going wrong (in my mind images of Michael Jackson flashed before my eyes). The Dr reassured me that there were minimal risks and that the procedure is safe. After I was satisfied, he started the injections; all the while explaining to me exactly what he was doing, being compassionate and even cracking a joke here and there. The procedure was relatively pain free and lasted only 20 minutes. When the procedure was concluded I was told that the full effect will only start revealing itself within 3 to 7 days.

As the hours and days past I started to see the results. My husband was the 1st to notice that I looked less stressed (even though I wasn’t). The frown lines slowly started to disappear as the targeted muscles started to respond to the treatment. It’s a weird sensation when the Botox starts working, as you do not feel numb but your ability to frown as before slowly disappears. I found myself in a heated argument with a colleague shortly after the treatment and a bystander later commented that I sounded angrier than I looked during the altercation – that’s when I realized I did the right thing getting Botox! Why should life’s little annoyances age me prematurely?

Having now graduated from bleaching my teeth to getting Botox I must admit I am not ashamed of either cosmetic procedure. Having small little touch ups done fixing small flaws may be considered vanity by some. However, having had it done I am pleased with the results and look and feel great. Anyone who considers having any cosmetic procedure done should do their research well before hand, to prevent becoming one of those horror pictures. We all sometimes look in the mirror and some of us find something small that we would like to change. I have come to the conclusion, that if you have the means to change what you don’t like don’t let fear or pride prevent you from doing so, whether it’s a cosmetic procedure or any other life change!

Till next time!

Were The World Mine

The breakup

Some who read my blog may think that I am obsessed with my appearance. Taking pride in the way I present myself to the world should not be misconstrued with obsession. I am no oil painting and achieving a presentable appearance is not an easy feat; this is achieved by having a good hair stylist, cosmetologist and my husband’s fashion advice. Not being a morning person, small children and some domesticated animals may take fright if they are misfortunate enough to have a glimpse of me at sunrise.

Recently, my hairstylist of 5 years told me she was moving to London. The news shocked me. I was among many of her loyal clients who had an adverse reaction to this unwelcome news. It felt like I was being broken up with, my stomach turned and I was flustered having to face an uncertain future regarding my hair. I knew my stylist since she was an appetence at the salon (I have been a loyal customer there for the past 8 years). I saw her develop into an exceptional hairstylist who also has been rewarded accolades for her talent and devotion to her craft. The prospect of losing her and not being able to find someone that could live up to her standard was disheartening. Furthermore, I was faced with the difficult decision whether I would stay at the salon or leave. Leaving would be like cheating, eventually culminating in a divorce of sorts from a group of people who became like family to me from the shampoo girls, the stylists to the owner.

Not dealing well with breakups, I shaved my hair. Work was part of the reason why the hair had to go, but the secondary motivation was to buy time before I had to make my decision. I do not look good as a skin head, the word “convict” comes to mind. My hair could not grow back quick enough. The touch-ups I needed during the initial re-growth and the ghastliness of the barber shop was too much for me to endure: the barber’s skill is limited to one hair style; they do not brush away the previous client’s hair; and I feared getting dandruff or some hair and/or sculpt disease. I was starting to pine for the comforts of a salon, intelligent conversation, juicy gossip and a professional hair cut.

As luck would have it my husband befriended a husband and wife team of stylist, he met through work. We had dinner with them one evening at which point I decided to take the plunge and entrust my hair to them. A week later I made my first appointment. An hour before I was to arrive, feeling nervous and stressed, I almost cancelled twice. I do not like change! Anyone who cares about their hair would know going to a new stylist is as frightening as discovering your breaks have failed while driving fast down a small stretch of road heading for a sharp turn.

Walking into the salon my nerves were shot. The staff did their best to make me feel at home. The atmosphere was informal, light hearted and I was made to feel like a friend being introduced to a new social network - there were even some eye candy to gawk at. My stylist’s wife also popped by to ask whether I was nervous. My nerves soon settled after discussing with my new stylist what I wanted and he explained to me realistically what we can achieve. Diplomacy is a key skill in hairdressing.

I spent a couple of hours at the salon, having my hair coloured and cut. For the first time in 8 years I was allowed smoke breaks during treatments - a big plus! The staff appeared to enjoy their work, had a passion for what they do and the skill to match. I left the salon looking great. Finally I was blond again and have something that resembled a hairstyle. I found a new family who can look after my hair, people whose expertise I can trust and want to build a relationship with.

Driving home, I still had a sense of guilt for divorcing my salon of 8 years. I will miss the times I spent there and the people I came to know. My stylist decision to move to London to broaden her horizons and breathe new life into her career also forced and encouraged me to make some changes in my life. In life there are no certainties. We all change and sometimes the decisions of others instigate change in us. It’s not always pleasant, but without this, life would be far less interesting. I wish my stylist the best of luck with her future and career. Those who she leaves behind will miss her, but those fortunate to cross her path can look forward to a compassionate ear that will listen, a good friend that will tell you the truth and of course GREAT HAIR!

Till next time.

I AM WHAT I AM live performance by Shirley Bassey

Crack and Sack

I had a particular rough week. By Wednesday my optimistic mood was shattered, and I was left feeling pissed off, dejected and particularly annoyed with all my colleagues. So I stuffed my face with carbs then attended a high impact cardio kick boxing class at the gym, to burn off the carbs. Thursday morning I decided to take a deep breath, adjusted my attitude and put all my frustrations in a bubble and blow it away. I then did what any gay man would do and attended to my personal grooming - gay therapy!

Gay grooming is a complicated affair. Depending whether you are a Bear, Bear Cup, Butch, Femme, Twink, Muscle Mary, Drag Queen etc, gay grooming have different rules for different groups. But no matter in which group you fall, one rule stands – pubic hair should never be left to grow unattended. If you have an Amazonian jungle in your jockstrap or panty you are sure to get a disgusted stare from any potential sex partner. No one wants to go down on a monkey and very few homosexuals prefer a hairy ass to a smooth bubble butt. Homosexuals prefer genitalia to be neatly kept as we want to see what we have to work with. Correct grooming can make anything look shiny, bigger and better, it’s also is more hygienic. There is no handbook explaining these rules, you learn them through trial and error and if you are really unlucky through a sex partner who will rudely point out your grooming errors. (All homosexual have a bitch gene, in some the gene is more dominant and we all know who we are!)

My waxing routine is painful but simple. All hair from the neck down is removed, apart from that which is covered by a g-string which I attend to myself. I have considered having what they call a “Crack and Sack” (the male equivalent of a “Brazilian Wax”) but the idea of it gives me nightmares. I can’t imagine having to bend over in awkward positions, having to pull my cheeks apart, having to tightly grip the skin of certain parts of my anatomy in order to assist my waxing technician to get to all those nooks and crannies. Besides being embarrassed to do so, I imagine the pain would be horrendous. It will also add an extra 15 minutes to my 45 minute appointments.

After my waxing session I leave the spa free of unwanted hair, I leave feeling happier, lighter and less frustrated. I caught up on all the gossip and realized that my problems are far less significant than those of other clients.

At home I attend to the finishing touches, which do included contorting my body into awkward positions, but at least I have a good understanding of my own anatomy and have no audience (apart from our 3 cats who find the whole routine fascinating to watch). It’s amazing what one can achieve with a pair of clippers, shaving cream and a razor. You can transform your body from that of a cave man to a porn ready super stud. Maybe it was the change that happened in the gay porn industry during the 90’s that inspired the big change in gay male genital grooming. But what ever the instigating factor was, I am grateful for it. The days of bushy pubes, hairy balls and hairy asses are over. Gay genital grooming has claimed its rightful place in the Top 5 spots of gay therapy: Hair cuts, Gym, Clubbing, Sex and Genital Grooming (Not in order of preference or importance). Till next time



You're Fabulous! (Now You Know!)
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