By Andrea Goto
Statistics show that more and more men are getting on board the cosmetic procedure train. And some of the numbers are astounding. For instance, since 2000, the use of Botox has increased 381 percent for men. On the surgical side, in 2018, eyelid surgery, liposuction, nose reshaping and breast reduction were the leading procedures for men.
Not too long ago, I had a hard time imagining my husband wanting a cosmetic procedure. At 50, he’s aging gracefully and probably spends about five minutes a day caring what he looks like (and that time is spent finding socks that match). He’s got a solid head of hair that falls neatly into place and since he’s what we call an “indoor toy,” sun damage really isn’t a concern.
But as it turns out, we just hadn’t had a conversation about it. And while my husband doesn’t care much about crow’s feet or eyelid reshaping, there is one procedure he’s really interested in. Remember that solid head of hair I mentioned? Yeah, it’s not confined to the top of his head. By 2 p.m. each day, a hairy shadow emerges on his face. If he doesn’t shave for three days, he resembles a man on a bender. Longer than that and he gets profiled at the airport.
“I would totally get laser hair removal,” he announces one day when I randomly ask if he’d ever consider a cosmetic procedure. I didn’t realize it, but the daily process of shaving really gets him down. And rightly it should. Every morning he aggressively rakes a razor across his face, then bangs the side of the sink to free the prickly hairs from the blades. Scratch, scratch, bang, bang. And repeat.
I don’t mind a few swipes under the arms on a regular basis, but I’m 5’10” and if I had to shave my legs more than twice a week, I would die from exhaustion (or razor burn). Plus, that crap takes TIME—and who has any extra of that to burn? With a touch of ADD, I can barely keep my toothbrush in my mouth for the recommended two minutes. Keeping ourselves tidy is exhausting.
And my husband is exhausted. “I would love to never shave again.”
That’s when I realized that we all have our things—and these things are deeply personal. Just the other day, a friend admitted that she hates her thin upper lip (I hadn’t paid one second of attention to her upper lip and when I did, I couldn’t understand what she was fussing about). Of course, I have a weird thing about my knees and my Achilles tendon, which is completely irrational and weird, but it’s my issue, not yours.
So, for Father’s Day, I’m thinking the perfect gift isn’t another golf shirt or utility knifey thingy. But I should get him the thing he really wants but will never do for himself because isn’t that the nature of a perfect gift? For my husband, it’s to never shave again. For yours, it may be something different, but equally as important to him, like putting more hair on the head. But you’ll never know unless you ask.
