Boobs, butts, bellies and thighs

The first time I walked through Ssang-yongdong on that Tuesday night while it was still light out, I was struck by the amount of thigh on display in conservative Korea. High-heeled silver sandals with straps around the ankles provide the platform for the exhibition. The exhibition includes the silky-soft skin that is natural to most Koreans. In fact, I have a friend in the states that the affectionate nickname that I use with her is Silky Pants, she calls me Jerk Face. As I try not to be obvious or rude, my gaze slowly follows her calves all the way up to the thighs and right to her butt, literally. Her shorts can’t be but an inch bigger than the skimpy bikini bottoms that American white girls wear to anywhere they can get away with. I get that funny tingle that only lust hormones can produce as I bashfully walk past her and her almost blue denim shorts, I say almost since they barely qualify as “shorts”. Images of hippie chicks in the sixties when I was growing up trying to piss off their parents come to mind. The next woman I am approaching down the hill on the sidewalk on this unbearable hot 92 degree humid evening, is wearing white sandals with the same four inch heals and straps around her ankles. Her silky smooth skin also is on display way up to her blue denim mini skirt that conjures up more images of sixties chicks pissing off their daddy’s. As I now have enough time to lift my head up after this startling visual treat, her t-shirt goes all the way up to her neck, down to the edges of the bottom of her blue denim mini-skirt and the shirt has semi-long sleeves on this hot day in Korea.

I reminisce about earlier this summer in several college towns on the east coast of the states and how much cleavage was bulging out of push-up bras and bikini tops. There are more breasts showing on the American female than the actual breasts of the Korean woman. They do not show boobs, shoulders or bellies here, like ever. The Korean female’s upper body is not on display in public but their legs and butts put the twenty dollar hookers outside Port Authority in NYC to shame, especially with the heals that bring me back to my younger years in bars with half and whole naked women with dollar bills tucked into their g-strings. The g-string is the predecessor to the thong for those of you too young to know there was once a world before thongs that underwear went over your butt instead of inside. With the exception of those who got paid to wear them or trying to spice up their personal life every now and then. Yes, Korean women like to show their legs and butts, but no upper body, and they will never leave their homes without a bra or undershirt on, nipples are outlawed here.

Besides the obvious reason of being a guy who really appreciates the female form, what has caught my attention about these social mores is that on late night TV, woman show their boos all the time and the TV stations blur out any butts or pubic hair. So in real life, boobs and bellies are a no-no, on TV, butts and pubic hair is a no-no. In both, Korean women rarely wear anything that fits snug, alters or lifts their boobs. It appears that Korean female celebrities are very comfortable with showing themselves topless in movies and TV, whereas American female celebrities have to be mindful of what they show and how it will effect future casting, while they walk around with their boobs on display to the legal limit whenever possible with underwear of any form a commodity.

Why is it that we have such curious contrasting and maybe even contradictory social programming about what and where it is OK and not OK to expose the naked body? There seems to be no rhyme or reason that I can see. I initially thought that it might be related to the fact that western women typically have larger breasts than Korean women. After seeing them topless on TV all the time but not bottomless, my theory gets thrown out the window. We certainly are an interesting species. The fact that we wear clothes at all is somewhat bizarre, but the peculiar patterns that determine how that justifies which and when we expose any or all parts of our bodies is absolutely a mystery to me. I doubt I will solve this mystery tonight, tomorrow, or the next night. In the meantime, I will keep my eyes on things that are not as stimulating to the those senses and focus on things that are stimulating some the other senses like trees, mountains, patterned sidewalks of green, red and yellow and all the incredible little places to eat that line every road I can find with sights, smells and tastes that thrill even an objectifying male like myself.

The Korean Haircut

Looking in hair salon and barbershop windows like a stalker in search of his prey, I roamed the streets of Ssang-yangdong neighborhood for a place to get a haircut. No, not the place with the hairdressers in fake brown hair. I’ll pass on the salon with the sign stating their cheapest haircut is 29,000 won, equal to about $29.00 US dollars. I keep looking and staring in windows. As I pass the Lotte Mart on the right across from the Baskin Robbins Ice Cream shop, I see a sign for 4,000 won in the large glass window of a hair place. Of course, it must be 4,000 won for some specific service that is additional to the haircut itself, maybe shampoo or a shave?

I step up the single step to enter their front door and an older man wearing black slacks and a button down shirt comes from the back of the shop and greets me and says, “Do you want a haircut?” in perfect English! What a relief.

I ask, “How much?”

He replies promptly, “Are you a member?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been here before?”

I knew there was a catch or something to the 4,000-won haircut. “No.”

“OK. It is 4,000 won. Do you want a haircut?”

“Yes.”

He points to a seat on the couch on the other side of a coffee table covered with scattered newspapers that have been read and reread throughout the day, or week. “Sit down.”

I sit following orders. I scan the newspapers in HanGul and see a picture of a baseball player. It must be the sports section. I pick it up and remember I cannot read HanGul yet. I put it back down and sit patiently staring at nothing.

Less than five minutes go by and he walks over and says, “OK.” And points to an open station in front of a young woman wearing a nice comfortable black dress with short black hair simple but stylish.

I get up and start to sit and he points to a little plastic covered series of men’s pictures to demonstrate styles of men’s haircuts. They are all cuts made for Asian hair, not my thick, heavy Italian hair. I get nervous thinking of having to pick one that will not be successful for me. He recognizes my confusion and asks, “Do you se a style you want?”

“I would like the same I have but shorter” pointing to my head. As if he didn’t know wear my hair was.

“OK” He then has a brief conversation with the woman about to cut my hair in HanGul and she starts right in while he is still carrying on a conversation with me. “Where are you from?”

“New Jersey, I mean America, right outside of New York City.”

“Good.” He nods his head in affirmation of something and walks away. She is cutting away like a trained technician. In America, it seems there is more of a need for making the customer feel special, cared for. They are not technicians as much as service providers. She was a technician.

At one point about five minutes later, she said something in one word that I did not understand that I think was q question. I just nodded my head yes and hoped I did not just give her permission to shave my head. She continued cutting.

The rest of the haircut was in silence. I have never had a silent haircut before. I am not sure I have even ever had a haircut when I was not flirted with as part of the “service” whether woman or gay man cutting my hair. I closed my eyes and relaxed. One of the benefits of very poor vision is the lack of ability to see your hair being cut. When you put on your glasses after completion, it doesn’t matter if you like it or not; it is already cut.

When I was in my early twenties, I tried wearing hard contacts for a little while. During those few months of dry eyes and always being tired with headaches; I got a haircut at a neighborhood salon by a killer babe with long brownish-black hair, a dangerous body and a soft smile. I saw every chop and clip of my hair falling away for the first time in my life and it was horrific. I stopped wearing haircuts and made a promise to myself I would never wear glasses, contacts or anything else while receiving a haircut again. I have kept my promise so far.

She said something in a short phrase and looked at me for a response. I assumed she was asking me if I liked it or wanted it shorter. I pointed to my glasses with a smile and when she handed them to me gently, I put them on and looked. I liked the cut, simple and short. She is a technician. The man came over and asked, “Is it OK?”

“Yes. Perfect.”

He nods and walked away. She cleaned me up including this really cool wide vacuum hose that took all the little hairs off my scalp and head in just ten seconds! She finishes and nodded at me.

I got up, put my glasses back on and went to see the man at the small black counter near the front door. I asked, “Should I give her a tip?” Since there is no tipping at restaurants, I thought it was a fair question.

He laughed a little and said warmly, “No.” Then a minute later, he added, “If you want to give her 1,000 won that would be OK” I did. The total for my haircut was 5,000-won including tip! This is about $5 US dollars. No flirting or conversations about celebrities while being flirted with and an occasional breast rub against the back of the neck for extra service but she was a technician I and I got a 5,000 won haircut. Things certainly are different here. A haircut costs less than the tip in America. And, I did not have to hear the latest about Britney, Lindsay, Angelina’s new baby or Paris being naked
August 5, 2008