My World: I've Got a Hairy Back

In the winter, my permanent onesie means I am the warmest in the room, even the snow and ice don’t have a thing on me as my hairy vest keeps the cold chill away.

But in the summer, it all goes wrong.

Holidays become a sticky, overheated nightmare and wearing of vests like so many of today’s men doesn’t quite have the same effect when you have the hair of a small Orangutan poking out of your neck hole.

Another of the woes of being too hairy is the fact that all my hair joins up, meaning grooming and preening are a laborious task.

My beard joins the my hair under my ear and also to the clump on my back that appeared around the age of 14.

My eyebrows meet in the middle giving me that ever so desired ‘mono-brow’ look, as well as joining in with my hair line at either edge.

The bottom of my beard joins my chest hair and a clear line has to be shaved in to distinguish where one ends and the other begins.

If I leave it a few weeks it becomes like the parting of the red sea; hard.

It all starting with great optimism and joy when I was around eight years old.

I noticed the first hair under my arm sprouted and I was keen to show it off, making me the manliest child in the primary school class.

It was my badge of honour, it was my doorway to manhood, it was as if a delicate bulb had started to flower for the first time.

Now, at the ripe old age of 24, it has become much more than a badge.

It defines who I am. I am without exception the hairiest man I know, and the hairiest a lot of my friends know too.

I know it may not be something to be proud of for a lot of people, but at least it’s something...