I had been in China for about three months and it was time for a haircut. My friend Wu Gong’s brother, Wu Fae, is a hairdresser and agreed to cut my hair. When I first met Wu Fae I thought he was gay because he dressed very feminine and was a hair dresser, but it turns out he’s not. He actually has a smoking hot girlfriend.
The problem is that thanks to family genetics I am hairier than pretty much every single Chinese person here in China. I’m like a freaking yeti compared to everyone else. Sometimes my students pet my arms because they have never seen anyone so hairy. It felt like I was the main attraction at a petting zoo. But it had been a while since I had a proper haircut and I was getting pretty hairy all over and realized that it was time to do some manscaping. (To all you sickos out there I’m not talking about my pubes I’m talking about my chest hair.)
After sitting in the barber chair for 45+ minutes while my hair was being cut (the Chinese take forever to cut hair), I asked Wu Fae if I could borrow his electric clippers to trim my chest hair. Wu Fae doesn’t really speak English so I had to pantomime trimming my chest hair so he would understand. Wu Fae started to laugh and agreed to let me use his clippers to cut my chest hair but told me that I would have to do it myself. This was something he did not want to be a part of.
So there I was, standing in the middle of Wu Gong’s restaurant with my shirt off trimming my chest hair. Random people walking by stopped and watch me, this crazy American, trim my chest hair. It was truly like being an animal at the zoo, but if that was the price I had to pay, so be it. It was needed and worth it.