Goggles of Denial

I've never like glasses so much as I do now.

They're hindering my vision for anything up close, because of some physiological decaying, that is a gauge of age.

Yeah.

I'm en route to 'old' I guess.

don't tell anyone, k?

Well, anyway, I have to take my glasses off to see up close.

Papi goes on about 'this hair' growing and 'that hair' growing and I just don't see them.

My love parades around with these fledgling spurts of teenage maturing feelers that are sprouting out all over the place.

I hear, "Do you see my sideburns?" or better yet, "Do you see my chesthair?!"

no ... as long as i keep my glasses on, i don't.

However, my love is hip to my trick and told me to take off my glasses so that I can see it.

I begrudgingly did it, and sure enough, there they were: 5 or 6 dark course hairs on my love's chest, and little bristles of stubble directly beside Papi's ear. 

Yes.  Here it comes.

So, we were at a beach the other day, and Papi blurts out, "Should I grow my armpit hair?"

This question came about because of the men that were obviously having their very own pageant of: 'Who's the Hairiest in the Sand?'

There was hair everywhere!!

Back, armpit, chest, facial, leg and even this line of hair down the middle of their stomachs!

Mi esposo is realizing that men don't shave that shit off.

So, now to become integrated into the male world, there must be hair.

HAIR!!!!!!!!!

I have to admit, I'm not the best at my upkeep for my lady bits to look perfect every day.

Nor my armpits.

I'm pretty low maintenance, and it's good.  I couldn't imagine primping and prodding myself to perfection like I did when I was a teen.

Back then, it was like I lived in the bathroom trying to get the perfect eyeliner curve on my lid.

But I digress.  That's a whole other blog about ego.

Papi looked at the guys on the beach and said, "He has a nice amount of chest hair," in an effort to show me that this is what my love wants.

"No.  He doesn't.  If you get hairy like that I'll be waxing you in your sleep."

It was then that I realized how bloody bizarre this whole thing is.

I have a prepubescent for a spouse.

Most 'men' have their hair in place before they meet 'the one'.  This guarantees that the other half of the relationship knows what their getting.

I don't know what I'm getting when it comes to the hair.

As an adult with an adult spouse who's going through teenage puberty, it's fucking comical!

This is seriously the weirdest thing I could ever imagine happening in someone's life.

Now that I'm able to actually speak to my love about things ...

well ... if i'm being honest, it's really listening to papi ... then rolling my eyes because it was too much information that i'm not ready to hear ...

... it seems like the strangest conversations.

These dudes on the beach have finished their maturing, and I suppose that some women may like the hair, but dammit, I don't.

Really.

So, in answer to the armpit hair question, I'm the wrong one to ask.

Yet, I'm always the one to hear these questions.

Man hair.

It has completed it's journey reaching my love's groin and is now continuing it's trek to higher elevations.

I think I'll keep my goggles of denial on until I'm ready for the fuzz.