September 28th 2024.
The concept of male beauty has always been associated with a smooth, hairless appearance. I observed this trend while dancing freely in a gay nightclub in London, surrounded by bright green laser lights that illuminated my shirtless, slightly sweaty torso. I couldn't help but notice the long chest hair that I had recently let grow, forming tight curls that any Jane Austen heroine would envy. It was as if my chest hair was Elizabeth Bennet's iconic hairdo, with streaks of silver that shone under the lights like precious gems.
As I caught a glimpse of myself in the lights, a fellow raver smiled at me and made his way towards me. With his handsome hazelnut eyes, he asked for my consent before running his fingers through my Jane Austen-esque chest hair. He whispered, "Mmmmm, love the fur." What followed next was too steamy to be a part of an Austen romance, but it made me feel something more powerful than just being fetishized. It made me feel validated and giddy with happiness.
It has been a long journey for me to reach this level of body confidence and self-acceptance. But now, I can confidently say that I love my body hair. However, it was not always like this. When I was 25, I booked my first full chest wax appointment. I had entered puberty at a young age and was embarrassed by my early body developments. I started shaving at the age of 13 and by the time I was 15, I had a full chest of hair. I was not sure how to get rid of it or if I even should. All I knew was that I did not want anyone to see it.
I felt like I was too young to have such manly body hair, and it made me feel self-conscious and repulsive. I would cover myself up in the changing rooms at school, just like a woman caught without her bra. But no matter how much I tried to hide, the taunts and teasing from other boys would not stop. They would call me names like gorilla or shout "pubes!" at me, making me feel even more embarrassed and repulsive.
As I grew older, I became more comfortable with my body hair, but in my 20s, I started feeling self-conscious again, for a different reason. The standards of male beauty at that time were all about being hairless. The era was dominated by Abercrombie & Fitch and Calvin Klein topless male models who were as smooth as sphynx cats. It all seemed creepy and perverted, but their marketing strategies worked. So, at the age of 25, I decided to get rid of my chest hair through waxing.
I still remember the excruciating pain of the waxing process. As my hair was ripped away from my body, I let out a high-pitched scream that made me feel emasculated. And even after the process was over, my chest was so sensitive that even a gentle touch would hurt. I also realized how difficult and expensive it must be for women to maintain such beauty standards on their bodies, and it made me feel sympathetic towards them.
But it wasn't just the pain or social pressure that made me decide to go back to my natural, hairy self. Standing in front of the mirror, hairless and naked, I felt even more exposed and vulnerable. I felt like it made me look like a child, and it just didn't feel right. So, I decided to grow my chest hair back and promised myself that I would never shave or wax it off again.
Of course, this decision was not easy to stick to, especially in the gay community where there was still a preference for hairless bodies. Some men I dated would ask me to wax it off, while others would at least suggest trimming it to keep it tidy. On the gay scene, "bears" were considered attractive, which meant hairy and overweight men. I never felt like I fit into this category, and when I started going to the gym more often, people would encourage me to go hairless again to show off my muscles better.
It was then that I learned the term "otter," which refers to hairy gay men who are not plus-size. It seemed like the perfect metaphor for me, and I realized that if people didn't like my natural body, it was their problem. There were plenty of other options for them to choose from. It was a turning point for me, and I finally started to own and embrace my body, including my chest hair. And even though there were still some haters, I focused on the positive comments from lovers who adored my hair.
Now, with age, better self-esteem, and the influence of body positivity, I have happily let men fetishize my body hair. But I also believe that more needs to be done to help men feel confident about their bodies in general. Just like women are redefining and broadening current beauty standards, men should do the same. We don't need to alter or groom our bodies to be acceptable or attractive, and it's time we say goodbye to the days of those hairless Abercrombie models.
I am glad that I have come full circle and reached a place of hairy happiness. Removing my body hair now would feel like defacing my own body. The only dilemma I have now, as it starts to turn grey, is whether I should dye it or not. But I'll figure it out, and I'll be sure to let you know what I decide. Do you have a similar story to share? I would love to hear from you. Share your thoughts in the comments below.
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