Half Naked Body, Half Naked Head

The monsoon made its appearance late this year, just like all our clients who realize as soon as September approaches that a trip to their auditors and chartered accountants is overdue. They ruin our Sundays and make us lose our mental balance over balancing their balance sheets. Such is life, but I’m not complaining.

Another quarter of a year ends in one week, and here’s a little update on what life lessons in skin show I have learnt during the last three months.

Lots of Skin Contact Yo!

July started with a mission to do something that would keep my posterior to look like less of a shock absorber. Swimming had always been one of my favorite forms of exercise, and I had maintained a safe distance from the pool since my body sprouted a bit too much of homo-sapient vegetation. But I gathered the courage to strip in front of at least a hundred people, and signed up for a swimming subscription at the pool.

The pool that I go to is no ordinary swimming pool, mind you. It’s the place where our Dilli hosted all aquatic events during the Commonwealth Games. It’s a place which makes you feel that Mr. Kalmadi has actually put his soul into the Commonwealth project. I mean, how else would just entering the vicinity of something CWG make one strip oneself of all shame and expose one’s mammaries to the gleaming water.

Getting back to swimming has taught me a few lessons. The most touching, literally, is to never be embarrassed of male boobs. These three months have been full of naked men bumping into each other in a huge tub of water, and the sight of water dripping down from pointy nipples on sagging male boobs. It’s made me realize that water does bring out the feminine side in a man. Proof being that during all the talk in the locker room, no one has complained of a salute by his manliness inside the water. And, silently, every man compares his boobs to another’s. What’s ironic, though, is the maxim: smaller the better. There are also tan lines on my feet from wearing chappals to the pool. The fair V-shape from the straps makes my bare feet look like they’ve been wearing a kinky thong to the beach the whole summer. There’s not too much hair on the toes, so the need for a bikini wax hasn’t arisen. The pool has also sound proofed all the manly farts. Now, we can fart in the water to our heart’s fart’s content. Just be careful to not let anyone notice the bubbles.

If That Much Skin Wasn’t Enough

It saddens me to see how people fall for looks and do not care to appreciate some really good qualities about people around us. Why else would people praise the cow and get disgusted by the buffalo? The latter gives more milk! So, to free myself from the clutches of vanity and show my receding hairline that I do not give an ounce of fecal matter, I decided to get my hair buzzed. Buzzed as in, -next to bald- buzzed.

The mother welcomed my new look in the house with a: “You dare not enter my house looking like that”, while the sister exclaimed: “Get in fast and better not step out of the house. I’d die before my friends see you like that.”

I have spent the last three months looking ugly as frig, dealing with convincing myself that Akshay Khanna looks good enough to do better than Tara Sharma. I did get a little more attention though. Some friends were jealous, and wished to experience the joy of a hot shower pattering on the skull; while most could not stop themselves from feeling the fuzz in my buzz. Some well mannered ones would ask if they could rub their hands on my head. And, I always obliged. But, shameless were the clients, who even thought it was acceptable to take permission to touch it, and then touched it before I could say no. I am a friendly person to deal with that way. Yeah, that sounds like a good enough explanation. Believable?

I was going for a buzz every fortnight, and then, like a melodrama loving Hindi soap bahu, the mother gave me a kasam not to get my hair cut before my cousin’s wedding in late October. I wonder why she wants me to get some female attention at the shaadi. She’s pretty much always hated my lady friends. But, kasam toh kha li hai! I’m on a hair growing spree now. And, all parties seem to fall during this chhakka phase when the hair is neither idhar ka nor udhar ka.

My swimming subscription ends with this month, and I’m in two minds about renewing it because it’s too much of a pain to wake up so early in the morning. The hair has grown to a decent enough length, and looks ugly only when I skype. The skin show has been fun, but will soon come to an end. I’m happy though, and so is the mother. I deserve a jalebi, if not more. Don't you think? *chomp*

Image Source: www.marvelousmanboobs.com