November. Not one of my favourite months of the year. That's when it really starts to get cold, dark and wet and even the holiday season is still a whole month away. And then there's the Movember.
You know what I'm talking about. The month when even the sanest of men seem to lose it and start growing a moustache. It becomes a competition and the topic of endless bad Facebook profile pictures. These guys forget the fact that looking like a 70's porn star was only cool in the 70's. Provided you actually were a porn star.
The point behind all this is to raise awareness about testicular cancer. How, I've struggled to see. I mean, October is the breast cancer awareness month and women everywhere don't celebrate it by, say, walking around without anything covering their modesty (why do they call it that? We are referring to the female sex organ over here- surely that's the most immodest thing there is?). We don't stop shaving our armpits and start sporting bushes that even Michael Jackson would have found thoroughly uncool (I am, of course, talking about the short period in time when Michael Jackson was not only alive, but black. And a man, too)!
Now that we are just a couple of days away from the end of this madness, I think I finally got it.
All that facial hair makes even the fittest men just profoundly unattractive. And women don't want to have sex with unattractive men. So, effectively the tasch acts as the most powerful profylactic known to man (Pope, hope you're listening - no more ranting about those silly condoms that all those silly scientists say prevent all those silly diseases). And when women aren't having sex with men, the men have to take care of themselves. Which means that they spent even more time getting intimate with their groins and as a result are more likely to notice any abnormalities in the region. Voilà!
All those years in school have finally paid off- I can do scientific analysis, me!
And men, remember: Gillette is only the second best thing you can get. You just wait what comes after...!
I have to admit I've never been too supportive of my Yorkshireman's attempts at growing facial hair. Luckily he's a quick study and knows roughly (pun intended) when his face is too much like a brillo pad for my comfort.
ReplyDeleteAt least these days he can almost grow a full beard, unlike the first time he tried, when the c. 10 hairs on each cheek just looked sad and forlorn.
oh, you just wait until the hair on top of their head starts fleeing and seeking asylum in ears, back and toes...!
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