to trim perchance to wax

Hamlet's Manscaping Dilemma
with a nod to the great bard, Bill S.

To wax, or not to wax - that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the crotch to suffer
The slants and angles of unbridled hair,
Or to take arms against a sea of follicles,
And by removal end them? To prune, to shape—
No more; and by a shape to say we end
The crudeness and the thousand natural sprouts
That flesh is heir to —'tis a pelvic area
Devoutly to be wished: to zap, to shave.
To trim, perchance to wax. Ay, there's the one;
For in that wax of hair what chicks may come,
When I have tattered off this unkempt shrub,
Must give it pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of hirsuteness.
But who would bear the hours of maintenance,
The laser's beam, the waxing strip's burn,
The pangs of electricity, the shears' flub,
The irritation of Nair, and the shave nicks
That remain after the razor's ill use,
When he himself might his shaft frame make do
With a natural groin? Who would torture bear,
To grunt and scream under a waxing strip,
When the dread of over manicuring,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No follicle returns, frightens the crotch,
And makes us rather bear those hairs we have
Than fly to removal that we know not of?
Thus bareness does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native bush of germination
Remains without the shaping cast of blades,
And grooming lacking care and vanity
Lets the hairs grow awry from side to side
And mask the penis's true size.—Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia.—Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my hairs uncounted.

by Sarah Cerullo

in Volume 2 Issue 2

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