Chewbacca reveals his side of the story

I was all tied up in knots. It was the middle of March—the crucial beginning of the pre-bathing-suit summer season—and I had to somehow control the chest, back and knuckle dreads that I had cultivated all winter. Not only had I become dangerously flammable, but my hair had grown unwieldy—a problem that even full-body cornrows couldn't solve.

But before I grabbed for the machete, I began to question whether I should cut myself free from the ties of hairitude. Do girls swoon at the sight of my animal-friendly fur coat? Would guys bow down to my radiating manhood as it dragged behind me, collecting ladies' delicates . . . and ladies? There has to be some rationale, I thought, to keep that wall o' hair sometimes referred to as my body, and I had to find out what it was.

I started with my grandfather, Sergio Rabinovich. On a scale of one to ten (one being a hairless babe and ten being Chewbacca), he rated his body hair a 7.83. According to his precise guesstimations, some of his arm hairs exceed four inches in length, and as a result, he says, he always seems to get his hair caught in wristwatches, jewelry and, from what I've seen, every other object within a four-foot radius.

Even so, Rabinovich looks back on his life of obscene amounts of hair rather favorably. "It's sexy. All women like it," he explains.

For some reason I couldn't quite believe him, and it wasn't just because he was a 72-year-old man claiming he was sexy. Something told me that girls didn't exactly like hairy guys. To be more precise, every girl told me.

Nevertheless, I hit Blair's hallways expecting to get responses like "Hairy guys are like teddy bears," and "Body hair is fun!"

But as I found out, girls see hairy guys more as oversized, rabid rodents than as any sort of snuggly plaything. In my informal poll of 50 female Blazers taken on Feb 20 and 21, 80 percent said they would rather have a guy who was completely bald than a guy who was exceedingly hairy. As senior Diana Alvarez clarifies, "Hair is just so . . . ugghh."

Still, I was able to find hairy Blazers who weren't discouraged. Some, like sophomore Phuson Hulamm, believe hairy people contribute to the diversity at Blair. "Hair's always great for a little variation," Hulamm explains.

Others, like sophomore Russell Forman, see hair as being fashionable and functional. "It looks masculine, but, I mean, it also keeps you warm in the winter," Forman says.

No matter what you call the hairy look, it seems that most Blair males are hairy or wish they were. In a Silver Chips poll of 50 male Blazers, 64 percent said that they would like to be hairy.

Even Principal Phillip Gainous has been bitten by the hair bug. According to Gainous, chest hair was a "plus" when he was in high school. "'Course, I only had three chest hairs," he mournfully admits.

But now, Gainous' longing for chest hair is driven not only by experience but also extensive research: "Yeah, I read something somewhere that says women like body hair."

You read it here first.

Gainous had a point. Not only would I retain an extra layer of insulation, I pondered, but I would also have a means of ensnaring prey.

Never again would I have to lift another thing, as I could just use my hair to absorb all my worldly possessions, such as eating utensils, toiletries and future children.

I couldn't cut my hair, you see, because it had become a part of me. More importantly, I couldn't cut my hair because I needed to be absolutely certain that I would still be sexy at age 72.