Razor-sharp battle

I recall, as a teenage girl, the embarrassment I felt when I got hair on my legs.   I was like an overwatered Chia Pet.  I’m certain that if my mother didn’t finally give in and buy me a razor I would’ve looked like a Yeti by the  8th grade.  Women will and do spend a lot of money to get rid of unwanted hair.  Men, however, come up with any reason possible to grow it.  A playoff beard?  The only game you’re playing is “Game of War” on your iPhone 5s, hoping to get a sneak peak at Kate Upton’s animated breasts.  You’re not even going to the playoffs as a spectator.   Yet, every hockey and baseball season you turn into a lumberjack.  What’s the deal? Most men don’t even care if they have hairy chests or backs.  Well, most straight men.   My gay friends are smooth as butter with bodies that you won’t find in suburbia.  Quite frankly, it’s not fair.   

A man’s love of facial hair begins during his pubescent years.  It is new and exciting, but just  because you can finally do something doesn’t mean you should.  The message falls on deaf ears.  If you stand outside a high school on any given day you will see a parade of Burt Reynolds wannabes with braces wearing Hollister sweatshirts.   I had to break the news to my son that a mustache is not cool on anyone, but grandpa. My father has had one all my life.  I grew up during a different time.   Plus, at this point he looks weird without it.    I have never heard a young woman say to her friend, “Hey, look at that hot guy with the stashe!”  

  
There are a lot of things teenagers say, do and wear that will drive you crazy.   I hate the tube sock trend.   Who thought that was a good idea?  Next thing you know kids will be wearing white New Balance sneakers.   I don’t get why anyone would want to suffocate their ankles with tube socks, but I tolerate it.  My daughter loves to wear bedazzled shirts.   I prefer not to dress like a craft store threw up on me, but I allow her to express herself.   My middle child walked around every day for a year wearing superhero shirts.  It pained me.  I let him be.   I draw the line at a mustache.  I will not let my son leave the house looking like he is about to get in a conversion van and cruise the strip.   If he wants to look creepy when he is older that is up to him.  Hell, who am I kidding?  I will buy him razors then, too.