Like most everyone else, my supplemental hair began in the pubic region. As I approached my middle teen years I developed chest hair and facial hair. I experienced the "cool, I'm
growing up" phenomenon. I can't recall experiencing
shame for these traits.
Well, as
fate would have it, my
Dark Lord,
Testosterone was not through with me yet. I began to develop some hair on my shoulders and back. This was the first time I remember feeling distanced from my
peers.
...one of these things is not like the other...
My general
hairiness, my above average height, and my
proclivity for going barefoot to my college classes earned me the
moniker, "
Sasquatch", and with somewhat lesser frequency, "Bear." Fortunately, any possible negative connotations my brain could have summoned regarding this nickname were
quashed by my
friends' assurances that I was a most wonderful
sasquatch and without
peer. I was, indeed, their
favorite sasquatch. I felt warm, accepted, and furry. Innocence never lasts.
One fateful Sunday morning, I sat down to enjoy a double feature of kung-fu
hijinks and
giant-rubber-monster mayhem. Returning to
the tube early during a commercial break, I saw a cosmetic goddess announcing items from her "
turn offs" list.
"...people who are mean to
puppies,
Jew-killing
Nazi bastards, baby rapers...and
hairy shoulders..."
Slow motion plate tumbles from a numbed hand. Two slices of cheese toast BOTH manage to land wrong side up. Coca-Cola jettisons from nostrils in a tribute to Gojira's rage.
Did that
uppity bitch just say what I think she said?!?!?!
Okay, Okay. My remembrance of her quote might be significantly affected by
hyperbole. But the
hairy shoulders bit was real. It was in there.
Now, I realize the woman was just reading from a script and if I ran into her today, I would probably not go all
Rorschach on her ass.
I had been force fed from the tree of media wisdom and had a base animal urge to scrabble for fig leaves to cover my embarrassment.