Is getting the snip the new nose job? Picture: Rob Baird Source: News Limited
MOST music moguls laze away the day in balmy LA in their pools or admiring their vintage car collections. But a few months ago, R & B sensation Omarion chose to spend a beautiful fall morning under the knife — or at least under the scalpel — at his own circumcision.
“I used to be part of the turtleneck club,” says the 30-year-old star of the VH1 show Love & Hip Hop: Hollywood, adding that the decision was at least partly driven by his partner, Apryl Jones.
Whereas his baby son, Megaa, was circumcised in August in a mohel’s Los Angeles home, Omarion took matters into his own hands — or at least the hands of a doctor — opting for a hospital and major anaesthesia.
Omarion used to be part of the turtleneck club
Overall national circumcision rates for babies in the United States have dropped sharply since the 1980s, slipping to an all-time low of about 55 per cent. The medical community has been split on the health benefits of circumcision.
But according to experts, an increasing number of grown men are making the cut for religious, medical and even aesthetic reasons. Though there are no official statistics on the phenomenon, mohels and doctors say they’ve seen an uptick in adult male circumcisions. Many of these are driven by religious reasons, after a wave of Russian-born Jews, for whom circumcision was not an option in Russia, fulfilled the covenant upon emigrating to the US, the land of foreskin freedom.
And some men are making the cut for vanity reasons.
“I’ve met American men who were uncomfortable that they weren’t circumcised, and it’s caused them social embarrassment,” says Dr Ian Kerner, a New York-based sex expert.
“In some ways, it’s the same reason someone would get a nose job. It’s elective surgery, but it makes you feel better.”
“Circumcision is hot,” says urologist Dr Paul Turek, who says half of his adult patients in Beverly Hills and Silicon Valley do the deed for cosmetic reasons.
“Circumcision is hot,” says Dr. Paul Turek, who says half his adult male patients do the deed for cosmetic reasons. http://t.co/NuzHPpPLXW
— Margi Conklin (@margiconklin) January 30, 2015
“They’ll come in and say, ‘I think I need to get cut,’ ” says the doctor, who sees a lion’s share of guys in their 20s. “Some men don’t like (the foreskin) — their partners don’t like it.”
He boasts that his 30- to 60-minute, US$1000 ($1280) procedure uses the latest technology, precisely removing the foreskin while leaving sensitive tissue behind.
Two years ago, instead of nursing a vicious hangover on January 1, 39-year-old Adam kicked off the new year with his own bris. “I planned to start the new year right,” says the French-born tech entrepreneur, who lives in the West Village. Growing up in France, his father never allowed a bris as a baby, fearing any external signs of being Jewish in a hostile world.
“They were always in hiding,” says Adam, who declines to use his last name for personal reasons. Upon being circumcised, “I felt relieved — I felt like King David,” he exults. “Plus, it looks better.” After the procedure, he and his rabbi immediately buried his foreskin in a nearby park, a gesture that symbolises “putting the negativity back into the earth.”
His decision to go foreskin-free was easy — it was his loins that protested post-surgery. “There was a five-week recovery before I could use it,” he admits, explaining the gruelling recovery regimen during which he was bandaged for 10 days and had to soak his family jewels in Epsom salt twice a day for about 30 minutes.
Boris can no doubt relate. The 34-year-old New Yorker got married last year and wanted to start his married life as a full-fledged Jew.
“I thought about it my whole life — it’s unfortunate I had to wait till I was 33,” says Boris, who gave a US$1000 donation to the mohel for the 40-minute procedure, during which he lay on a table covered by a cloth.
The anaesthetic takes a while to set in, and there’s extensive suturing, he recalls — “the actual thing takes maybe a minute” — but he even showed up for work the next day.
Still, there was trepidation. “As a grown man, you’re used to having what you have.”
He describes the first two weeks after his procedure as “horrific, especially the swelling.” He took Vicodin for the pain. Hanky-panky was off limits for about two months, since an erection can mean mind-numbing soreness. Mercifully, urinating is pain-free. Even so, “The next six months weren’t normal,” Boris adds ruefully.
And now — any complaints in the bedroom?
“We’re expecting a baby next month — everything works just fine!”
Originally published as Why more men are getting circumcised