Body Hair, Guts, And Other Things That Attract Attention

**Originally posted on January 19, 2004 on the Bear Mailing List**

Being Biracial, Big, and Hairy, I have heard my share of inappropriate comments. And those comments come from all sorts, not just "twinks" or as I like to say, the "maturity challenged". I love it when a guy comes up to me in a bar that looks like Conan O'Brian, but trying to sound like P. Diddy. This isn't his normal way of talking, but evidently, he thinks that talking this way will help me understand his words better.

Like some bears, I love to dance. Doesn't mean I can, but I like to try. My only explanation as to *why* I can't dance is because, being biracial, I have black rhythm *and* white rhythm, and they are fighting each other at the helm for control. Not a pretty picture. And if the DJ really knows what he is doing, I'll be out there long enough to work up a good sweat. I don't care if I am surrounded by twinks, my mother, Simon Cowell, and Joan Rivers, my shirt is coming off. I know that when I do this, I am going to hear it from someone. My favorite was, "Ugh, if that queen sweats on me, I'll be that hairy for sure in the morning." I kind of like the thought of my sweat as Rogaine. It kinda has a gay comic book supervillain feel to it.

Now, I'm 6', and about 215lbs with a gut. I'm quite proud of my gut, mostly because if gets me instant respect at the Oriental Grill and Buffet (it's on US31 in Greenwood, Indiana next to Wal-Mart, and I"m there at least once a month). There is a waitress there who, after my 4th trip, playfully patted my belly and said, "You will put us out of business if you keep eating like that." She meant no malice. In fact, I think she was just showing concern because, trip after trip, that MSG adds up. The comments I usually overhear at the bar are things like "gas tank" or "tool shed". I even had a bear tell me, "You know, you would be cute if you would just visit a gym." Not all malicious comments are made from the young and boyish.

So, you know what I do? Instead of punching someone's lights out, or crying into a Slim-fast, I have learned to laugh about it. Hell, I have learned to make my own jokes about it. Hell yeah, I'm a black guy with the ethnicity of Bryant Gumbel. So what if my belly sticks out a bit? One day, I'll have my own portable place to set my drink. Who cares if my dancing resembles a one-man, black Pentecostal revival? With my body hair, and my *extra layers*, if the sun winks out, it will be survival of the thickest. Amen to that and pass me some potatoes. If someone has a problem with it, it has nothing to do with me. If I should feel the need to retaliate, I tell the story to all of my friends, and then we all a laugh about it. At that point, the comment seems trivial, and you can put off seeing a therapist for real issues.

Remember, kids! Pride isn't about being somebody special, pride is about *being* somebody.

Love and hugz to all, bears and non-bears alike!

William
(winner of the "Colon Blow" award at "'Stinky Rip' McCracken's Chili Shack)