Boron = Moron?
It started back when I was about 17. Boron was being touted as the ‘new miracle supplement’ – it was said to ‘increase testosterone levels’.
I’ve already been weight training for 5 years and figured “what the hell?” It’s about time I try something a little stronger than a multi-vitamin.
While I can’t say I actually got stronger because of the boron, as soon as the hair started growing on my shoulders and back, I assumed it was doing something – and that was good enough for me. At least there was a visual “return” on my investment (more than I can say for the multi-vits).
Soon after, I learned that the boron studies were done on post-menopausal women and their testosterone increases were negligible at best (of course, they wouldn’t put that fine print on the bottle at GNC).
I quickly stopped taking the supplement du jour for fear of going into early man-opause (buh-duh-DUM! Try the veal – I’m here all weekend. Be sure to tip your waitress…) Maybe my youthful man-fur was just a carry-over from my cave-dwelling ancestors, triggered by puberty. Surely it’ll stop as soon as this phase of my life is behind me, right?
Almost 20 years later…
Having lived with my personal (and continually expanding) wool sweater for all this time, being a sensitive, new age kind of guy, earlier this week I had another one of those “what the hell?” moments of inspiration.
This time… waxing.
Delaware really is a small town and I seriously contemplated crossing the state line to hide my secret plans from anyone who might know me. After an hour of driving around, scouting out possible locations to have the last ounce of my pride ripped from my flesh, I found the perfect place.
It was tucked away behind a Starbucks; right next to a sandwich shop. Surely I won’t bump into anyone I know here.
I asked the woman at the front desk if they were equipped to handle me – a first timer. She assured me lots of guys have this done. But I never thought I’d be one of THOSE guys.
As I paced back and forth waiting for the back-hair-ripping-specialist, I noticed an ambulance pulled up to the entrance. I immediately assumed they were on standby mode for me – just in case. Turns out, they were only going to the sandwich shop.
After a 40 minute wait (my god! what kind of problems must the person before me have to deal with?), my wax-er (is that what they’re called?) came out. She looked at me and said, “Joe? Do you remember me?”
Yep. Former client. I helped her get in shape for her wedding a couple years ago.
“I…I…I thought you worked in a BANK???”, I stammered.
So much for laying low.
Janet told me how skin was her real passion and she got out of the financial world to help people look and feel better about themselves (I can see how high interest rates and late payments could have the opposite effect).
Slightly uncomfortable reintroduction aside, the actual hair removal wasn’t so bad. I have a few tattoos and waxing reminded me of the dull, burning feeling you get after a few hours getting inked. It’s a much stranger feeling to have my shirt and skin in direct contact. It’s also surprising how much of an insulative value body hair has to offer. We’re having a mild winter, but now I feel a bit of a chill coming in from behind me. Next time I’ll be sure to plan my waxing appointment around the long-term weather forecast.
Wax on, Wax off. Don’t Even Go There
After she removed the final remnants of my dignity (and hair), Janet put some kind of a “calming” gel on my skin.
I have a feeling it’s the reason I’ve been dealing with a pimple breakout on my back for the last couple of days. Maybe it’s just a normal reaction for a first timer, but I suspect Janet added something extra to make me think twice before scheduling a Brazilian wax.