Ah men... I can’t keep away from the subject.
Manscaping can be defined as the removal of excess male body hair via waxing, shaving, plucking, lasering or trimming.

For me, manscaping calls to mind thoughts of heavy machinery being required, the possibility that it will turn into a long-term project, that it will most certainly be costly and physically arduous and with a definite chance that the final product won’t look as natural as you would like it to. At least not until the growth takes root and flourishes to once again recreate a lush and verdant environment.

Personally, I prefer my men less well manscaped. I mean, within reason I tend to be attracted to the disheveled types (usually with personalities to match)...

However, it seems there are plenty of people out there who think this is the be all and end all for the modern male and are more than willing to sell you a solution.
In the course of my research I came across some very forceful writing about the do's and dont's of manscaping techniques from the 'experts'. A few key pointers cropped up again and again:
DO NOT completely shave the armpits or the genital area - this is NOT what women want and will turn them right off. Three words: Trim, trim, trim!!
DO get rid of every bit of back and shoulder hair. This is a manscaping MUST.
Don't even THINK about having messy hair (on your head) or haircut growing out that looks all 'mangy' if you're going for the manscaped look.
Eyebrows? Pluck 'em.
Nose and ears? Trim or epilate.
Knuckles and toes? Tweezers again.

Yep it's probably gonna be painful, but apparently you're a bloke and you need to harden the fuck up if you want to end up soft all over.

It’s a cruel trick of nature that after pregnancy, the culmination of which generally results in a human coming out of another human, when you might finally get a chance to get your mind back, without the constant hormonal attacks, you are almost certainly immediately so sleep deprived that you become, once again, quite, quite mental.

Pregmentia is, (so I hear, although not having experienced it first hand I can only trust that it’s not just a conspiracy by pregnant women created as an easy out for any fuck-ups they might make during this time) a state of semi-senility, or dementia which occurs during pregnancy, generally attributed to hormonal imbalances and the fact that you have a parasitic being inside of you literally sucking the life out of you, also the fact that it is probably quite distracting to know that at the end of 9 months you’re gonna have to let this giant thing use your vagina as an exit – they’re not French doors, you know.

Today readers, I’m going to touch on an alarming phenomenon - 'Moobs', or 'Chesticles'.

Thanks Nick, for requesting a discussion on this particular topic... What I will say straight away, is that if you decide to do a google image search on the above words, please have caution. Images may be disturbing to sensitive or younger viewers.

Whilst undoubtedly great conjoinulations, this particular topic is kinda creepy, so I’m prolly not gonna write about it for too long. Plus.. I’m on the train right now and I’m pretty sure the guy next to me is reading this…

Now, although breasts are, in some circumstances, certainly something to be proud of, this particular emotion (is pride an emotion?) would generally be left up to the women-folk of the species (and possibly certain possessive men-folk who may think of their Mrs’ bits and pieces as their ‘chattels’, and therefore something to be proud of). However, if you DO deign to perform a google image search for ‘moobs’ (man-boobs, if you en’t caught up yet) or ‘chesticles’ (self explanatory I hope, and kinda more manly-sounding, and less milk-producing-like than 'moobs', in my opinion) then I believe you will find some pictures of some very proud lil' fatties.

From time to time I have in-fact heard the odd man here and there, speaking fondly of their own mammaries.

It’s weird, it’s kinda like they feel they have won a special prize, been given a rare gift even, that allows them a rare glimpse into the women’s world – a guest membership to mysterious and magical club.

Lucky boys.

It's been a while. What can I say...? It's summer. It's unhealthy to blog too often in summer.

Speaking of summer - holy crap, as if bitchy women's magazines weren't annoying enough most of the year - they get unbearable in summer - if you were to take what they say and try and translate that into some sort of practical routine to be followed day to day... let's just say that in order to prep your skin/body/hair/nails/wardrobe for summer you may as well quit your job, say goodbye to loved ones, take out some sort of a loan type thing (cultural idiom requires me to say 'second mortgage' here, but as I don''t have a first mortgage, that simply doesn't apply) and cloister yourself away like some sort of caterpillar, all in order to metamorphose yourself into an acceptable beach dwelling creature. It's sick, I tell you. Sick!

So, what do they have to say about fingernails... (Please bear in mind, I have not returned to the whatever publication I got this from to verify that I have my facts straight, - I couldn't remember where I read it even if I wanted to - but am simply regurgitating what I absorbed whenever it was I read this).
The ideal fingernail shape we should all be striving for (ladies), is the 'squoval' (squared oval) - you want your nail to have a squared off top and oval/curved sides - natural, and easy to maintain so they say. (oh - and I think they said light coloured polish makes your fingers appear longer - yes - I'm sure that will have them all fooled that you are a concert pianist.)

Anyway, one thing you DON'T want to be flaunting, just above your jandals, are 'cankles'.
This should be pre-tty well self explanatory - it's when ones calves and ankles are sort or morphed into one - you know how some women's legs don't curve in at the bottom of the calf muscle, and therefore make no clear delineation between calf and ankle? Cankles.

Needless to say, I didn't read about cankles in a women's magazine. That's just a little bitchiness devised by a friend of mine. That's obvious, because it's sound genius, without the pretense of trying to help you achieve some unattainable level of attractiveness. She always did call a spade a spade.