A few weeks
ago, one of my dad’s
friends and his wife came over for dinner. They were
coming from Iran
and their son Akbar drove them all the way from LA to
visit with us in the Bay Area. They are the older, highly
educated, highly accomplished, highly considerate, highly
conservative, and highly typical Iranians, like those
I remember from 20-30 years ago when I was growing up
in Iran.
Akbar, their son, is 30+ years
old and had lived in the U.S. since he was 15, insisting
that he looked like
Ryan Seacrest, the host of American Idol, persevering
that he too was with the MetroSexual phenomenon – which
makes him what, a PMS, Persian MetroSexual?
I did catch him several times checking himself out in
every reflection in our house, from the console mirror
at the entrance, to the china cabinet mirror during the
dinner, to the wine bottle, as he was pretending that
he was checking the estate and the vintage! If you have
been to any of the trendy dance clubs in LA, you must
have already observed that being a Persian Male and MetroSexuality
are practically synonymous, with a twist, or two.
You see, around 94 when CK underwear
ads for men were posted on every billboard and every
magazine and every
street corner, the British satirist Mark Simpson coined
the term “Metrosexual” to describe the models
in these ads, referring to a young urban straight male
who embraces the homosexual lifestyle, concerned with
self-image, self-indulgence and money. He has a strong
aesthetic sense and spends a great deal of time and money
on his appearance and lifestyle. He also has refined
tastes and uses excessive designer hygiene products,
2-3 different products just to style his hair, and unlike
my dad, he loves clothes or even the process of shopping
for them. Hmmm … that to me, so far, is a PMS.
More over, a metrosexual man
is in touch with his emotions, reads a lot, memorizes
poems, and even quotes famous
writers. He is even romantic. In other words, unless
you didn’t know, judging by American stereotypes,
you would have considered him gay, but he is not, though
on the brink of homosexuality. Although some PMS may
qualify, others are totally confused with superficial
aspects of metrosexuality and are truly more NoeNor than
romantic. But you see, Metrosexuality is deeper than
that.
Take Behrooz, my Persian/German buddy. Because of his
mixed blood, he has a pretty light complexion and even
if you plucked his entire eyebrows, it is not that noticeable.
Pluck just a couple of strands
of hair from just the midsection of Akbar’s Pacheh Boze uni-brows, and
man, those dark black eyebrows looked 10 times darker
and 20 times more prominent – Plucking the hair
above his eyelids made him look like one of those exaggerated
cross dressers in Pink Panther movies with nearly shaved
eyebrow - but he still had plenty left.
There is more …
Although
he is a pretty good looking guy and had a great looking
paisley Tommy shirt
on, which looked great on
David Bowie in the newspaper ads, the cluster of dark
thick black chest hair sticking out of Akbar’s
shirt, up to his neck, somehow was not working as it
did on David! Didn’t metrosexual men trim/shave
more than their face?
It looked like a baby’s head or the fake hair
on Mike Myers’ chest in Austin Powers movies. Akbar
had Pache’ Boze for eyebrows, and Kalleh Boze sticking
out of his shirt for chest hair. Worse yet, the shirt
was a size or two larger to cover his gut – What
happened to the chiseled metrosexual tight body?
There is more …
Stretching the end of each word
and excessive use of “like” in
every single sentence, is like what my like teenage like
daughter like does like a lot, ok?! Akbar is a 32 yo
man.
Like there is like more, like
OK?! …
Somehow when we talk about romance and being in touch
with yourself and hey, while we are at it, even to be
in touch with your feminine side, I would like to think
it means the more subdued and less aggressive and much
less chauvinistic behavior.
First of all, I think Akbar
may have confused being in touch mentally, with touching
himself physically,
as he did adjust whatever was there, time after time
in oblivion and with comfort. More over, this guy would
not let anyone talk, and you know how much I like to
talk. He had a half opinion about everything in the universe,
also insisting that he was right. While we were made
references to this book and that article or this research
and that report, he would resort to the subjective phrase “Migan ….” [they
say - hearsay], a clear indication that he does not read.
Aside from supporting and voting for the epitome of ignorance,
namely the illiterate George W <Sorry Mr. Ashcroft,
I didn’t know you read PersianMirror!>, he also
wished U.S. had attacked Iran to liberate Iranians so
that he could return to his homeland! I don’t think
he remembers what they do to boys who look, or talk like
him in Iran, starting upon arrival!
Akbar was the epitome of Metrosexual
wanna be and I gave him the credit for trying until after
dinner when he went to the bathroom to quickly return,
asking for an Aftabeh!
Apparently Akbar khan, our PMS, has taken his metrosexuality
hygiene to the next level and still washes, not wipes,
his ass - It is the curse of Aftabeh reaching beyond
Homo and Hetero, now onto Metro!
We had recently disposed of
our old Aftabeh and had not yet had a chance to get
a new one from Target. Taban
suggested giving him some Baby Wipes, which we used to
have for our guest bathroom. We no longer use them because
folks tend to use more than one of those at a time, more
like 5, to wipe themselves and unfortunately these wipes
don’t easily disintegrate and quickly clog the
pipes. I mistakenly, honestly, handed him a box of perfumed
Moist Towelettes, thinking that he wants his ass clean,
and being a PMS, he probably also wants it to smell good
as well. He reluctantly took the box.
Did you know alcohol and your
rectal tissues don’t
mix well and it burns like hell instantly because alcohol
is immediately absorbed and there is nothing, I MEAN
NOTHING, you can do to get rid of the burning sensation
while it lasts? They do! If you don’t believe me,
spray a little aftershave there and you’ll know.
The towelettes
are drenched
in alcohol and while Akbar joon was running around
the house, probably not fully
wiped with a literally burning ass (Koonesh Mi Sookht],
his dad clarified how “VassVaSee” Akbar joon
was and how he has to ALWAYS taharat with water. He said
they went to friend’s house a few weeks ago, and
Akbar joon had climbed up their sink to wash his precious
ass in their sink and the sink did not tolerate his weight
and broke underneath him [ It sounds like a scene from
one of Woody Allen’s movies “Everything you
wanted to know about sex but you were afraid to ask” where
the guest husband puts on host’s wife’s clothes
and falls out the window, etc.]
What a nightmare!
So next time, if nothing else,
settle with moistening some toilet paper and using
them instead … It is
gross, but it is only digested food after all!
We use Seat Covers in public bathrooms, even in our
own small little offices, to avoid SOMETHING, yet, we
have not crumbs about coming in contact with our peef
when using an Aftabeh. I think someone should invent
a disposable easily degradable Taaharat gloves.
p.s. If you use an Aftabeh,
never take your laptop with you to the bathroom when
you are writing a story. Water
and laptop keyboard don’t mix well either.
PMS
and the curse of Aftabeh - Part II