Pretty BoyOne Radar staffer gets the full man makeover
I'm no Brad Pitt. That much I'm willing to admit. I'll never have that bone structure, that torso, that hair or those eyes. But I'm also no George Wendt.
I take care of myself as much as a man with an aversion to sex with other men can be expected. I don't shape my eyebrows but I keep the unsightly hairs determined to bridge the gap between them at bay. I exercise a few times a month. Not often enough to really matter but not so rarely that I'm sore for 12 days afterward. And I generally shave once a week. All of this is to say, I always thought I was doing a decent enough job of curating my appearance. Then along came my co-workers, arguing that I was the best candidate to under-go some absurd embarrassment we'd been calling the "full man makeover" using an assortment of new male grooming products and services that, added together, amount to the bread of butter of quasi-journalists—a first person trend story. They'll say I was singled out because I'm the only person in the office willing to publicly humiliate himself like this. I'll say it's because they're dicks. Either way, I figure now's the time to announce that I only went through with this horrible charade as a denouement to my time here at Radar. Which is to say, I quit! < BACK TO Features |
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