Baby Bias! Because there is a certain boy who has been frustrating me very much for a very particular reason…
It was horrible. Absolutely unacceptable. You wanted to pull your hair out, toss all your furniture out the window and sob in a corner all at the same time.
But in actuality, you were only grabbing your computer screen, keeping the wailing storm inside your head and under control – at least on the outside.
You called out his full name from your room and he walked in from the kitchen with a popsicle in his hand, but he did so carefully, knowing that he had done something wrong because you only summoned him with his full name when he had made a mistake.
“Would you please explain this,” you demanded, pointing at the image on the screen menacingly.
“What… about it?” He was confused. What was he supposed to notice?
“And this, and this,” you said as you flipped through more pictures.
He scratched his head in confusion. WHAT were you trying to show him? “I don’t… get it?”
“WHY IS THERE SO MUCH HAIR UNDER YOUR ARM?”
In every picture of him, his arms were slightly raised and revealed either peeks of his dark hair under his arms or sometimes full-on angles because he was not careful enough, unlike his sunbaes, to at least cover it with his hands.
“Ohhhhhhh…” He was relieved it wasn’t something dreadfully serious. He could almost laugh. “Well, because I’m a man!” he answered proudly.
“You’re not a man,” you scoffed.
“How am I not a man?! There’s that one thing that you don’t have, but I have and -” You threw a pillow at his chest before he could finish his sentence. Good thing he lifted his arms up to save his popsicle from getting knocked out of his hands.
“YOU SEE THAT?” You pointed at his exposed armpits. “I don’t want to see that! Girls don’t want to see that. Your fans don’t want to see that, for goodness sake. You’re an idol! As an idol, you need to keep up appearances and this is really not attractive, okay? Why am I even explaining this to you? Didn’t your manager say anything to you? AND you’re a BOY,” you added. “You don’t even act like a man.”
“Oh, noona, right in my heart,” he groaned as he grabbed his chest. “You hurt me real deep. For your information, my manager has never said a thing about it. He might even have the manliest armpits, if you know what I mean.”
You could do nothing but clear your throat, because you had seen some pictures of his manager in the background that proved that your boyfriend wasn’t lying about the manly armpits bit, so you turned back to your computer screen. After a pause, he lifted his eyebrow. “… But you know,” he said slyly, “that means you’re saying you’re dating a boy, of course, not a man.” He smiled to himself, thinking he had won the argument.
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you huffed.
“A boy can’t do the things I do with you,” he chuckled as he took a little nibble from his popsicle.
You face-palmed. How were you supposed to argue with that? “Shave it!”
You spun around at his defiance. “Why not?”
“I told you, because I’m a man,” He lifted his eyebrow and looked away as he ate his popsicle in-style.
“You can’t even make your own food,” you retorted. “You barely do your laundry, you leave the toilet seat up all the time, your room is always a mess, you don’t even know how to shop for your own clothes-”
All you could do was stare at him in disbelief. You pointed two fingers from your eyes to him, “You better watch your back. You have disobeyed noona, so you better watch it. Because I’m going to get you somehow.”
“Oh, noona, I am so scared!” he exclaimed as he tossed his arms up in the air and he began to walk out of your room. “You’re not going to take my manliness away!”
You had both spent your day separately in your apartment, but whenever he’d bump into you, he’d nod his head in a “sup” kind of way to greet you or not-so-subtly flex his arms in front of you. Things like that only proved how idiotic he was sometimes, so you’d just roll your eyes. You ignored him and continued scheming a way to get back at him and teach him a lesson.
It was later in the evening when you called his name sweetly from the bathroom. “Bring me my pajamas please~ I forgot them!”
“Is that an invitation for a bath?” he yelled out from your bedroom after grabbing your clothes resting neatly in a pile on the bed.
“It is if you’re naked by the time you come in~” you teased. “Hurry up, I’m going to catch a cold with ONLY this towel on!” you added.
Well that sure did get him excited. This would be the perfect way for him to prove how much of a man he really was.
In your bedroom, he flashed his arm muscles at the mirror, admiring his reflection. Boys don’t have muscles like mine, he thought. He stripped himself, dropping one article of clothing at a time onto the floor like footprints, as he walked through the hall and thought to himself, boys don’t have my height. And just as he turned the doorknob to the bathroom, he snickered to himself, and boys don’t do what I’m going to do right now.
“I hope you’re ready for me, noona~”
He was very startled when he found himself reeled into the room and heard a grand slam of the door behind him. When he turned around to see you, he dropped your outfit in his hands to the floor and backed into the farthest wall from you.
“Noona,” he said very slowly, holding his hands out as if to calm you. “Let’s not do anything rash, okay?”
“Don’t even think about leaving the room,” you warned.
You were fully dressed with a tank top and some short shorts, so why did you need him to bring you clothes? That was weird. “I honestly think that you just want to give me a bath because you’re holding a scrub and some soap,” his words shooting out as quick as a cornered kid about to get beaten up, “but the way you’re blocking the door looking like you’re going to tackle me senselessly to the floor makes me question that.”
“I AM going to give you a bath. A real GOOD cleaning.” You nodded toward the tub that was already filled in. “In you go.”
“…You’re going to shave my armpits, aren’t you?” he asked, still in the same place.
“Step away from the door and no one gets hurt, noona,” he pointed at you.
“The one with the empty hands is threatening the one with the wooden scrub? Does that honestly make sense?”
He looked around quickly in search of something he could use to his advantage. A bottle of lotion was all that he could snatch up.
“What are you gonna do, squirt me to death?”
“PSHYAHHHH!” he screeched as he punched the nozzle, shot some white lotion at you and tried to make a run for it when you were distracted.
Unfortunately for him, you latched onto his torso before he could escape and trapped him in your arms lugging him forward towards the tub.
“NOOOOOO, WHYYY…” he hollered as he struggled with you.
“It NEEDS to go!”
“It’s not doing you any harm!”
“It’s harming my eyesight! Now get in the tub!”
“YA! Just once, okay?! Hair grows back, pabo! If you don’t like shaving it, I’ll leave you alone.” He gradually stopped squirming around and his whole body finally drooped over you, causing you to drop the items in your hands just to support him up. He knew he was too heavy for you, the jerk.
“Promise?” he muttered.
“No, I’m not going to promise. But you can just show your band members and see what they think about it, ara?”
“Fine…” and then he mocked a sobbing noise.
He slipped into the water with a defeated slump and plopped in just to splash you on purpose. You gave him a look, but he just left you a smug smile before turning his attention to the water in front of him to play around with as a distraction.
You sat at the edge of the tub behind him, your legs inside it on both sides of his body to station yourself well. “See, you don’t have to make this a painful process,” you soothed. You began to rub the body wash onto his back and shoulders before taking out the sponge to start scrubbing him clean. He ignored you with a pout.
Foam gathered and when you rubbed his arms down, you tried to lift them with your pink razor in your other hand at the ready. “It’s time.”
“MY MANHOOD…” his voice cracked and he whined, but he let you lift his arms up, allowing you to do the deed.
After about 10 seconds, you began draining the water and took down the shower spray to rinse him off.“There. That wasn’t so hard.” He opened his eyes when it was done and felt his underarms.
“It’s all gooooooooooooone… Smooth… but prickly… wait, THIS IS GOING TO ITCH ME SO MUCH WHEN I DANCE, NOONA, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Now he was just making up excuses to justify that you had clearly made a mistake.
This was all bad for him. There was no going back – not until a couple of weeks later when his precious man-hair would regrow fully. Maybe it’s going to itch in between that time (because there was no way he would even consider shaving again), maybe people will notice it in the pictures like you had, but make fun of his lost masculinity instead. Oh all the things that could go wrong. Should he glue some temporary fake hair on to hide this? Nah, then it’d look like he was shedding pubic hair everywhere. A pubic-hair-shedding deficiency. He croaked.
“Want me to do your legs too?”
“NO!” he screamed as he jumped up immediately and hopped out of the bath, water still dripping from his body as he wrapped a towel around himself before rushing out of the room, wailing. You just watched him go, laughing at his dramatic leave but also for your little victory, as you cleaned up the bathroom that he made made a wet mess of.
He didn’t talk to you all night, and he wanted to completely ignore you in the morning the next day, except he felt a tiny bit guilty for it since you were the one frying him his morning eggs.
“And just how long are you going to try and ignore me?” you mused as you ate your breakfast across the table from him.
With such a teasing question, he decided he would continue to pretend you weren’t there. He sulked, still refusing to talk, and chewed on his toasted bread extra-loud for the duration of the meal.
That evening, as his band was getting prepared for their weekly Music Bank performance in the dressing room, he felt a new pressure. Though you might not have thought of it as a big deal, he felt he had been stripped of a very prominent symbol of his masculinity. All the other guys were playing around, wrestling each other every so often out of boredom in their manly ways. He felt as if he now lacked a certain quality that gave him the rights to be a part of the group. If there were such a thing as feeling a penis invert, this was such a moment.
“Hyung,” he called out privately to the band leader passing by him. “I need to confess something.” His mind was a mess. Maybe the leader could provide some valuable advice – he usually could.
“What is it?” the leader asked as he took a seat and watched his face with concern.
“I… I’m not as much of a man anymore,” he blurted.
“I don’t understand, brother.”
Your boy bit his lip and shot his arm up with his eyes shut tightly out of embarrassment, and flashed his armpit to his band mate. “I’m hairless now!”
When he peeked an eye open, he saw that the leader had backed away, shocked. The confession was actually louder than your boy had meant for it to be, causing everyone in the room to freeze and stare at him. For a few seconds, the room was still and quiet.
“Well shit, bro…”
“I can’t believe…” another member jumped in.
“We’re kinda disappointed in you actually,” another said.
“I’m sorry,” your boy groaned and buried his face in his hands. “It wasn’t even my idea! I really- I was trying to fight it so hard because that’s not manly at all and I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t- and then she - but-”
“Why the hell did it take you so long, man?!” the member finished.
“What?” He uncovered his face and saw that his band mates had pulled up their sleeves or tanks, all flashing their armpits at him.
To his surprise, some were completely clean-shaven, others trimmed. But none had dark forests growing out from under their arms like he had before his bath last night. Even their male stylists were bearing their clean underarms for him to see.
The leader clapped him on the back in a job-well-done sort of way. “Welcome to idol manhood,” he congratulated, before getting up and continuing on with preparations.
The cameras rolled and captured so many pictures of the boys that night, and many comments from fangirls online popped up, describing their pleasant surprise that their favorite male idol had decided to clean his visual up a bit more. “He finally shaved!” They said. “He’s finally growing up.” But you were secretly the most pleased of all at seeing how care-free he was dancing on stage with his arms swinging around in the air. He was lifting his arms so often you were pretty sure that he was flaunting himself on purpose now, just like the laughing women in deodorant commercials that try to stuff their under arms right under people’s noses to get everyone to acknowledge how attractive their armpits are.
Your work here was clearly done.