I have quite a hairy chest. Normally this basic fact of my anatomy does not cause any problems. Quite the reverse.
However, when you are in hospital for electrocardiography, stress and echo tests, a thick rug is something of a disadvantage. To accommodate the multiple electrodes involved in today’s fun at St. Mary’s Hospital, my chest and ankles have been shaved. Patches of pale white skin have emerged from the forest of golden red hairs for the first time since puberty. There is no getting away from it, I look like a dog with a bad case of mange.
Any man should know better than to expect sympathy from the women in his life when it comes to the issue of shaving. Having once let a girlfriend wax one of my legs, I have some small sense of hair removal hell. Despite this, itching breasts seems like an unfair indignity to heap on a man who has already had to spend his morning running half-naked on a treadmill while several nurses look on.