Mr. July


On the seventh day of Sexmas, I delivered to mommy….
Akshay Kumar a-swimmin’.

06-akshaykumar-web
When I googled “Men with Hairy Chests”, this guy just kept on “sprouting up”. Ba-dump-bump.

For those of you that are not familiar with this fluffy babe-magnet, Akshay Kumar is an award-winning Indian film actor that has appeared in over 90 Hindi films. According to Wikipedia, during the 1990s, Kumar was primarily described as the action hero of Bollywood, and women across the globe seem to agree that he is the hottest hairy chested guy.

Growing up, most of my female friends were Indian, so I would frequently see photos of this guy’s typically angry face plastered on my friend’s Trapper Keepers or hidden in their lockers. I vaguely remember seeing Akshay as a character in a film called “Daava” and commenting, “For an action hero, this guy does a heck of a lot of dancing and singing.” Thus was my introduction to Bollywood, an art where even musicals can be badass.

Later that year, I went into a local Indian Grocery store  to buy a friend an Akshay poster for her birthday, and my mother seemed very pleased with the selection. “See, dis is a nice picture of a real man,” she said, “I vish you hung dis in your room instead of dat stupid Leonardo guy. He’s basically a voman.”

Akshay seems fine and all, but once and for all, I am going to dispute this argument that anyone that waxes is a wuss and “real men” have hairy chests. Technically, “most men” have hairy chests.  But real men can endure pain and suffering. I can’t think of anything outside of Medieval torture device where someone would drip hot wax on you, rip your hair in a swift motion, and then dab some sort of solvent on the fresh wound to shrink your pores.  And shaving – well, that’s just scraping a  multiple-bladed tool across the sensitive parts of your body so you will be tormented by bumps, itching, and irritation for days at a time. If you really think about it, the things our society considers “feminine” are the most barbaric of all – epilators, tweezers, curling irons, high heels, bras, panty hose, um CHILDBIRTH…

Okay, now I’m pissed off. Men are sissies. I’mona go be a “real man” and eat big hunk of rare steak…and then go tweeze my eyebrows.