In the special world of products advertised "for television audiences only," personal grooming has suddenly become a group activity. One recent, hair-raising commercial touts a man’s grooming kit, which may be purchased for $12.95 plus shipping and handling, if you call the number at the bottom of your screen quickly enough and as long as limited supplies last. There’s a definite sense of urgency in the male announcer’s voice. Although the grooming kit is for men, the sales pitch is directed at women — "Ladies, keep that man in your life perfectly groomed," advises the announcer. During the commercial, a woman’s hands are shown trimming a man’s sideburns and eyebrows, as well as removing unsightly hairs from his nose and ears. The 60-second spot, unfortunately limited by time constraints, fails to show the woman removing the man’s built-up earwax or trimming his toenails. The ad puts a completely new slant on man-woman relationships. The implication, wrong as it may be, is that men must have these things done for them and that they are incapable of grooming themselves. Behind every successful, good-looking man is a woman who can tweeze, pluck, clip and trim. Most wedding vows fail to mention that a wife will "love, honor and remove unsightly hairs," so the group approach to personal grooming must be fairly new. For many generations, in fact since the first caveman dislodged a piece of meat from between his teeth with a sliver of bone, men and women took care of their own personal grooming and the nature of those tasks were kept from the rest of the world. That’s why locks were installed on bathroom doors and why so many men emerged from those same bathrooms with razor nicks on their necks and faces covered with tiny pieces of toilet paper. The blood-specked bits of paper were never mentioned in polite conversation because grooming was a private activity. Men have always taken care of their own grooming. So, what happened? If wives are now expected to do those tasks for men in their lives, can family grooming sessions be far behind? "OK, Johnny, you take care of Daddy’s toenails. Susie, tweeze his uni-brow and I’ll hold him down in his recliner chair!" An evening of tweezing, clipping and tidying up the father could be capped with a more traditional activity, such as a popcorn party in front of the TV. After men are accustomed to having their entire families descend upon them as they try to relax in their recliner chairs after long days at work, friends and neighbors might want to join in on the fun and excitement. "Joe is having a 50th birthday party," an invitation might read, "and you are invited to celebrate, desquamate (remove dead skin) and depilate (remove unsightly hairs) with the guest of honor!" It’s easy to imagine how women might feel if the tables were turned and they would hear, "Men, keep that woman in your life perfectly groomed." Without splitting hairs, it’s safe to say that sales pitch would never fly. Perhaps we are subconsciously avoiding an inevitable truth. As Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., wrote in 1860, "Husband and wife come to look alike at last." If the men in our lives look well-groomed, we will too.
