geekent’s stuff’n things

Eyes.
Teeth.
Hair.
Body.
These, and not in that order (they arrange differently depending on the person), are the most difficult parts of our lives to attend, and what I mean is finding a good optometrist, a good dentist, a good hairdresser/stylist/barber and a good doctor are things that often plague us to the point where a few bad experiences will put us off them for a very long time, perhaps even beyond the point at which we find them necessary.

the eyes

I found my eye doctor in Toronto relatively quickly, and have been exceptionally happy with him for the past 6 years. He’s friendly and always reassuring, and he exudes confidence without any sense of arrogance or pretension. My optometrist in Thunder Bay was kind of an a-hole, and I stopped going to him after he started ripping me and my dad off for my contact lenses ($75 dispensing fee my ass). For a while, maybe 3 years, I was just picking up contact lenses at various optometry centers, in Wal-Marts or Costco. It wasn’t until I moved to Toronto and found Dr. Leung that I even felt comfortable getting new glasses or seriously contemplating laser eye surgery. After this happened Dr. Leung eventually convinced me that laser surgery would be a drastic improvement on my life, and, over two years after, it still ranks in the top 3 of best decisions I ever made. Dr. Leung rocks.
I have a friend who hates having anything done to her eyes… no eyedrops, no puff of air glaucoma tests, no bright lights. She literally hates the whole procedure. I worry Aden’s wee one (who’s currently down with another eye infection, a throat infection and a gnarly 2-week-old cough) is going to have the same reaction in later years, since there are screams bloody murder any time Aden needs to put eye drops in. The little one also has a hyperactive response to bright lights, sunlight especially. But putting anything near the eyes, or if water gets in them, watch out. This kid needs to have swimming lessons and learn some head dunking and a bit of the chlorine sting to toughen them up a little. Worked for me. I had no problem sticking my finger in my eye daily when dropping contacts in.

the head

Meanwhile, my childhood trauma means I hate getting my hair cut. It’s one of the things from my younger years that still sticks with me, and I hated going. I remember being around 5-years-old and my dad promised to buy me a X-Wing Fighter (well, maybe not specifically that, but that’s what I had in mind) if I went to the barber shop, and I sat through that haircut, hating every minute of it. And did I ever get that X-Wing. I say thee nay.
As a pre-teen I was awkward, monstrous 80’s glasses hiding half my face, absurd 80’s long-bangs or other “trendy” hairstyles done less for fashion (which I had nary a clue about until, maybe 5 years ago, and still am somewhat iffy on) and more for lack of haircut desire. I had for the longest time a side-part with the most absurd of cow-licks which would flap in the wind and drive me crazy (one point in grade 11, I grabbed hold of that cow-lick and snipped it off, leaving a semi-bald patch amidst my long hair). When I was a teen I was even more awkward, sporting a middle part throughout much of high school and at one point allowing my sister to butcher my head, which is captured for all eternity in my grade 11 school photo.
I used to go to the barber in County Fair Plaza in Thunder Bay, a place run and patronized mostly by old Italian men. The only haircut they were good at was a buzz and/or brush cut, anything else was asking too much of them. Then one day they got an honest-to-gosh hairdresser in there, a guy who could actually cut and shape and style. Sure he would lean into you awkwardly while cutting your hair but the price you pay for something decent done to your follicles. He wasn’t ever really around much though, and when I finally steel myself up to getting a haircut, well, I go right then and there with no delay and get it done with, otherwise it’ll be a few more months before I get back the resolve to do anything about my mane.
Since moving to Toronto I’ve had a bit of an adventure in hairstyle. For the first year I decided to try out one or two of the hairdressers on Roncesvalles near home, but I was really not satisfied with either cut, having to actually fix up one haircut myself at home. My home-brew actually turned out pretty nice, and so I wound up buying myself a hair cutting kit, including shears and proper scissors. I clipped myself a couple of times, once really nicely, twice kind of disastrously. Eventually, I took to shearing my head down to stubble (actually it was within the second month of blogging) which I enjoyed doing for quite some time… but I got tired of it after about two years and sought out a hairdresser, finding a new place to get it cut and eventually the best hairdresser I ever had.
I never knew his name.
And his salon closed unexpectedly.
And I couldn’t find him again.
I only ever had three haircuts from him, but I loved every one, even at +$40 it was so totally worth it each time, even if I didn’t like it initially, it always looked good a few days and weeks later. I could trust him to know what he was doing and to do something interesting to my head. After the unexpected end of that relationship, I started doing my hair myself again, manifesting itself as the “Diabolik” cut… which I loved, but found very difficult to sustain without frequent clipping.
After the shear-n-beard growing experiment of 2006, I finally found a place to call hairhome in the Terminal Barber Shop. I’ve been there three times, they treat me well, they cut my hair pretty nicely (even if I can’t really trust them to do anything creative), and they can work a mean straight razor. They take the time to give a good cut, which I appreciate. And it’s not exactly 40 bones either.

the mowf

Oooh, I don’t like me some dentists. I don’t hate the dentist since I’ve become pretty numb to the shock and pain of oral treatments, but a gentle dentist makes all the difference. Had a great dentist, Dr. Robertson (?) growing up, and he was fantastic with a great staff of hygienists and
receptionists, lots of toys in the office and mom would always take me to Bourqs Drug Mart in Victoriaville after for a toy. It made it quite easy on me. I always hated the fluoride treatments though… they made me gag like nobodys business, especially when they’d stick the goo inside the rubber teeth and pop those in your mouth with the suction thing between them and a drool tray below your chin. I was a mess of slobber and tears every time. God I hated that.
I didn’t have any problems with my teeth, no caveties, until I was a teen and my molars grew in. Deep pits mean I couldn’t properly clean them out with a tooth brush and cavities formed. Oh well, not my fault. I sort of stopped going to the dentist in University, except one time to get my wisdom teeth checked out (and subsequently extracted). I even chipped a tooth once post-university and never did get my mouth checked out in case something was seriously wrong.
I think I went through a six-year (more?) span between 1998 and 2004 before I went to the dentist again, this time finally choosing one at random near my house on Roncey. The hygienist was pretty cool, but the dentist was awful, with no chairside manner, and getting the cavity filled in that I had was a horrendous experience. I didn’t go back, even when they called me for my scheduled check-up. I told them I’d call back. I even got a Christmas card one year from him, but ugh… i wasn’t going back there.
It was Aden prodding me about getting my teeth cleaned and checked up (she’s a religious every-6-months-er) that I finally asked about her dentist. She likes her dentist, whose receptionist also happens to be her mother’s best friend. Her dentist’s daughter is also a dentist who looks after the wee one’s teeth (with nary a complaint)… so I inquired a little more and finally had my first check-up in over two years.
The hygienist was utterly cordial, and then I had the full x-ray and thorough inspection done by Dr. Z, and damn was she thorough. And fun. I can’t say I’ve ever had fun at the dentist but Dr. Z is so bright, cheerful and a bubbly personality that she seems genuinely excited about teeth and oral health care. She had nothing but positive things to say about my teeth and gums and general mouth health (although the typical “floss more” did come up) even though two minuscule cavities popped up on the X-rays. I’m going back next week to get those fixed up, but damn if I’m not actually excited to do so.

the rest’o'me

Doctors. I had a great pediatrician in Dr. Molson (whom I used to get confused with Dr. Robertson, because Molson sounds so much like “molar”) who had hair in his ears, I fondly remember. Apparently I was a clumsy and frequently sick child, so I probably saw him lots before I can remember, but he treated me well.
I stayed fairly healthy throughout high school and university, missing very few days of school (although sleeping in was always a problem), I think not missing a single day between grade 9 through 11. I was proud of it at the time… Anyway, I hadn’t really much need of doctors for most of my blossoming life, and thus had no fixed doctor. I went to the clinic at Lakehead once for… something which I don’t even recall anymore (probably skin condition), and it wasn’t until Toronto that I found a doctor to, well, kind of call my own.
At my local medical center there’s one doctor I prefer going to, but a couple others who are just as good (and a couple who kinda suck). I’ve been there a lot over the past few years as my body’s metabolism slows down and gets accustomed to the Big Smoke… sometimes they were fruitless visits, other times just for prescription renewals, and sometimes for things that I was a little paranoid over, and sometimes for necessary evils. I’ve never had a bad experience there, and I’ve got the place pretty figured out for wait times, and the good doctors are really good, and I’ve gotten comfortable with them enough as to not feel (too) awkward should they need to do anything… uncomfortable to me. Which is good. It’s nice to have that covered.

otherbody

Meanwhile, my massage therapist is amazing. She’s fixed me up many many times and is doing so right now. She rules, she’s so damn good at what she does, and she always leaves me with helpful tips for proper stretching and means of avoiding such strains or pains in the future.
The ducks, they’re in a row it seems.
If you’re searching for a good Dentist, Doctor, Optician or Massage Therapist, I can direct you to some of the best people who’ve ever touched or looked at me in wholly inappropriate but completely medical ways.

The beard is officially 5 weeks old today… here are random thoughts on beards, beard growing, and my beard:
* Whenever I grow a beard I think of that Hitchcockian Kids in the Hall sketch where a guy catches a fish and grows a beard only to have the beard take over his life. In the end he throws himself off a balcony and when his shattered body is revealed, the beard is gone!
* Yes, my beard feels like a symbiotic life form and not an actual part of me
* Beards only itch as they start to grow in… the first four or five days
* My beard acts as a wind barrier, and I like the feel of the wind as it blows across it
* I’m sure kissing with a guy with a beard feels weird, but it also feels weird for me
* I think about shaving it every day
* For the past week or so I’ve been overheating under the beard, and wishing I could take it off sometimes. I notice it even moreso if I’ve been drinking
* I’ve yet to get food stuck in it, but the moment I do it comes off
* I think I’m special because I have a beard. I’m not exactly sure how special, but it’s a total novelty and I love referring to the beard as if it were another being (”the beard and I will be at that party”)
* I’m oddly proud of it…
* Stroking the beard is now a nervous twitch
* I’m almost so used to it that looking at pictures of me without it look odd
* initial reaction was along the lines of “Havn’t shaved in a while?”, but now most people say “I like the beard, it looks good on you”
* I like the grey hairs that are on either side of my chin… I wish I had more there (just like on my temples)
* I’m in maintenance mode with the damn thing now, which means daily clipping of the wild and scraggly parts. I need to decide if I’m keeping it or if it’s coming off (I’ve been telling people for the past three weeks “next Friday”) and if I’m keeping it I need to invest in some “tools” to groom.
* One of the fun parts of having a beard is shaving it off into various facial constructs. Dave Gorman talks about this in his Googlewhack Adventure book, and how he drew little diagrams to maximize the number of formations he could make… I’ve never made diagrams, but one time I grew a beard and each day for 5 days trimmed a piece of it to obtain a different look.
* Sometimes I feel like a different person
* At Rooms birthday party I think I insulted a friend’s date by saying (jokingly) “Y’see, I grew the beard to subliminally tell all the ladies out there that I’m a verile manly man, full of testosterone. Dark, rugged and mysterious. ‘Who’s the man behind the beard,’ they ask.” Anyway, turns out he can only get splotches of a beard and he seemed almost wounded by my comment. But then he had the cute girl on his arm and I was goin’ solo that evening, so he wins regardless.
* I have one friend at work who keeps vowing to shave me in my sleep. I tell her that’s hot, but she just wants the beard gone. I think having a woman shave a man can be very sensual and seductive. Having a lady go at your face with a razor requires a lot of trust and intimacy… some day my ladyshave will come.
* When I think of beards I always think of the beard growing contest episode of Cheers. One of the best episodes ever (”Aah. Wolfman!”) I think Rebecca offers to shave Sam, seductively, which is probably where the above fetish stems from for me, since I had the hots for Kirsty Alley back then
* Being “in beard” feels like being incognito… kind of like being a different person. It’s like clothes for your face, it can change your attitude.
* I understand why some girls with really long hair just keep it growing… it’s part fear (”what if I don’t like it shorter”) and part competitive (”let’s see how long I can grow it”) and part curiousity (”what will it look like tomorrow”)… I feel the same way about my beard
* you don’t realize how many people have beards until you start noticing who else has one as well, and naturally comparing yours to theirs.
* while the rest of me may be devoid of ego, I think my beard has a huge fucking ego…
* I have to use conditioner on my face when I shower now
* the underside of my jaw is now at birdsnest/wool consistency
* comparisons so far have been: GI Joe (and not just myself), Jim Caviezel (”Jesus, but more the Count of Monte Cristo”), Jason Lee (circa Chasing Amy), George Clooney (circa Siryana), and Sam Roberts
* A large part of the reason I did the photoshoot with Rannie was to photodocument the beard. He did a great job (the image above is extracted from one of his).

Three days, three different people (consisting of two different genders and two different sexualities), and three different conversations about body hair, and no conclusions drawn.
We all have body issues, don’t deny it. Some of us want to lose a few extra pounds, some of us want to lose a lot of extra pounds. Some of us want to tone up, some want to bulk up, and there’s even a few of us who would like to just be heavier. Weight issues, generally, are changeable (I know it’s much more difficult for some than others), but there’s some things, genetics, which aren’t. Facial features, body structure, height, eye colour, hair colour… yeah, you can use cosmetic or clothing to change them but at the end of the day, when the clothes and makeup come off, you are who you are, and seriously, you need to deal with it and accept yourself for who you are.
It’s not easy, I know. I’ve been struggling with body image issues for a long time. I had taken to sauntering around the house in my underwear in grade 8, sort of like my dad would if he just woke up and was planning on going back to bed again. But my sister would tease me because I was a pudgy kid, a bit roly-poly, and it wasn’t long, after a few teasings that I started to be embarassed about myself, and became self-conscious about, well, everything. From my glasses, to my haircut, to my changing pubescent body. I’ve been the same belt size since grade 8, so weight hasn’t really been an issue over the past xx years (and I use “xx” not because I’m ashamed of my age, but because my brain is tired and I can’t do the math).
In grade 9 a girl was telling me I was attractive, if only I didn’t wear glasses. I got contacts before I returned to school in grade 10. I don’t remember exactly when I started doing it, but I started plucking my unibrow around then as well, because the cro-magnon thing just isn’t cool (I remember an interview with Billy Zane, and he discussed how he plucked too, which made me feel better). And as if I were Jason Bateman in TeenWolf Too, my legs… oh god my legs got the wolfen. They are frickin hairy… and I was/sort of still am embarassed to wear shorts. A friend at work two years ago said “Oh god, Graig, you’re beastly!” And it’s true, in one of my recent conversations, a friend in the same “situation” said he’s been referred to as a satyr, and I laughed, because I have too… although perhaps self-referential.
Yeah, that hairiness below the waist, well, to me at least, it’s not attractive. While women have been getting self-concious thanks to the demons of marketing and advertising (I noticed on the streetcar the other day a woman flipping through an Chinese language entertainment tabloid, and the bulk of the beauty ads featured white women in it… just didn’t seem right) it’s only recently that men have been seriously targeted about body image. And I don’t care what they say, every man would ideally like to look better. We may not think about clothes and appearance in the same way that women do, but we are becoming more conscious of it. And body hair is a big part of it.
Did anyone see Alien: Resurrection? Yeah, shit movie considering the talents involved, and the scariest part? Dan Hedaya’s tank-top exposed hairy shoulders. Seriously, that early scene in the movie where Nick Tortelli pops up on screen with his greying shoulder hair got the biggest rise out of the theatre. And lest we forget poor (well, not so poor anymore) Steve Carrell actually getting waxed in the 40-Year-Old Virgin… dude almost had his nipple ripped off. Not cool. And then there’s Troy… Eric Bana and Brad Pitt playing two hairless Greek men? Yeah right.
I remember when I first realized though I might have an issue with my lower region hairyness, not everyone else did. A first-year university friend was always complimenting me on my attractiveness and occasionally making jestfully lurid comments towards me, and one day walking up the stairs ahead of her she said “you got nice buns”.
I laughed uncomfortably. “Um, thanks”
“Are you smooth or hairy.” Which yeah, didn’t make me any more comfortable.
“Uh, hairy.”
“It’s all good,” she said.
Which was comforting.
A few years later I was watching the Dean “Superman” Cain hosted Ripley’s Believe It Or Not and they were doing a piece on this woman who could read peoples fortunes based on their ass. The most difficult part, she said, was reading men, because their bums were so hairy (and then the gypsy giggled like a Japanese schoolgirl). These sort of “hey, I’m not the only one out there” revelations are satisfying, although I still think that the whole body hair is kind of gross. But others, ladies, have disagreed, stating it’s rugged, manly. That’s kind of a classic 70’s view of the male body, much like the heavy woman is a very 17th/18th century view of the female ideal. I mean, who was the hot shit in the 70’s? Burt-fucking-Reynolds that’s who, and have you seen that Cosmo nude spread he did. The man is an ape… but the ladies loved it, and I think that’s probably still their top-selling issue of all time. And then there’s Tom Selleck offering up his moustache rides…
But these days, men are waxing themselves to be, as Stephen Colbert said on the Report last night, like an eel from the neck down. Asian men have it lucky, if Japanese wrestling is any judge, as there’s not a fleck of hair on their bodies (except that one dude in Calamari Wrestler…) and perhaps I’m just idealizing… some of my readers can set me straight on that if I’m wrong. I’m not sure why the body hair repulses me so, but it does, and it’s probably the thing I least like about myself… but at the same time I’m extremely proud of my beard growing skills… trade off I guess. And I refuse to wax or shave, as that’s just (in my case, high) maintenance and, really, shaving… man that itches when it starts stubbling back in… (oh, and for the record, if my lady doesn’t want to shave her pits or legs, she don’t have to, because I sure as shit aint doin’ it for her). I’m just going to limit my exposure of such elements of myself to the world. Although, when I was doing the photoshoot with Rannie earlier this week, I was almost proud to be showing off my natural state of shoulder and chest hair (although I’m not that hairy up top, it’s just errant).
I think my favourite moment of coming to terms with my body as it is was years ago when David Duchovney, in the peak of his X-Files hotness, was on The Late Late Show with Tom Schnider. They were talking about his transvestite role on Twin Peaks and Tom asks “Did you have to be… shaved” and David said “Yeah, but only halfway down my thighs… so I’d be at the gym and taking a shower and the guys would be like ‘who’s the man in the fur shorts’”.
If sexy Fox Mulder has lower torso hirsuteness, then I’m not in such bad company.
So these days, I’m not furry and proud, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be ashamed of my natural state. Until they build those machines that they had in Andromeda Strain that both decontaminates and defollicizes (I think I made that word up) I’ll just let the bulk of it be.