If you had asked the twenty, thirty, forty or even fifty year old me what he thought about men’s personal grooming and the use of lotions and potions I would have laughed and said that it was for big girls blouses who are lacking in testosterone. I simply didn’t believe that ‘real’ men like myself should engage in such pursuits.

I mean, for one thing, I’m too darn hairy to bother with all that guff that the adverts promote. My hair is long (thinning but long) and my beard is a testament to the ambivalent nature of facial hair. I get it trimmed once every six months but during the time in between allow it to roam free as nature intended. As for my body, well, perhaps the least said the better. I look like somebody shaved a bear down and did a bit of haphazard waxing here and there. To wit – I’m an old hairy.

I’m also grossly overweight. But that’s, perhaps, a subject best left for another time.

And so whenever I saw adverts for male hair or skin care products I scoffed loudly and derided such frivolity as being the domain of the effete and the poseur. I mean, you can’t go round looking like the missing link and then douse yourself in all that stuff. Can you?

Well, I’m now at the ripe old age of 56 (in July) and it would seem that the tide has turned in favour of the cosmetic companies. I have yielded gentle reader, yielded to the call of self care.

That hair of mine for example. Once a thick and lustrous chestnut coloured mane is now a grey and drying fly-away thing that requires copious amounts of Australian moisturising shampoo to avoid it getting tangled up like sheep’s wool on barbed wire at the first breath of wind. It was once my crowning glory but unless I maintain it with expensive bouffant products it resembles something a scarecrow would be embarrassed to sport under it’s battered old hat.

Likewise my beard has given up the ghost and any vestige of colour it may once have had is now replaced with something that resembles the rear end of the badger. Ergo, I find myself using beard wash, beard balm and beard oil to keep it looking anything like something a man of my years should wear on his chin. Good grief! Am I finally descending into respectability? Maybe.

Then we come to my arms and face. Well, perhaps the least said the better. I’ve never been what you could call a good looking man. In fact my first wife called me ugly! What the f**k she married for then I do not know as I certainly didn’t have any money. Mind you, she was as thick as pig shit, but I digress. My nose is of the bulbous, hammerhead variety and my eyebrows are so bushy and untameable that they have their own entry in the Encyclopedia Britannica. However, my current wife likes my face and that’s good enough for me. But its now getting dry and I want it to be more kissable for her. My forearms by the way look like corned beef that’s been left out of the fridge once opened and the cat’s got at it.

So with that in mind I moisturise. I use great quantities of the stuff on both my face and arms and it really makes a difference. I never thought I would say that but it’s true. I moisturise. I’m prepared to shout it from the rooftops. And in case you’re wondering, the brand I use is Rock Face. There’s loads on the market to choose from but I like the smell of that particular brand and it’s only a fiver a tube. Thumbs up all round.

And talking of thumbs, or rather my hands, yes, I use a hand cream now also. My hands are the tools of my trade. You can’t type 5000 words a day with dry and chapped hands. Believe me I’ve tried. And so I need to look after my fingers and that means using Bull Dog hand cream for men. And, like the aforementioned moisturiser, it works. I spent many years using my hands in hard labour, a fact I’ve documented elsewhere on this blog, and as a result they are quite rough and even calloused in places. They also cause me a lot of pain due to both this and the fibromyalgia I also contend with. Bull Dog helps. It really does.

And so finally, we come to Dr Balls balm. I won’t go into details but will rather leave it to you to surmise what that particular product does. The clue is in the name. Well, one has to stay fresh all over doesn’t one.

So there you have it. I’m a new man. Still a big, hairy galoot of one but with a new sense of self care and wanting to look my best. Have I sold out? On the contrary, I would say that I’ve bought in to investing in myself.

Give it a go all you he-men. Trust me, you won’t look back.