Anonymity / Celebrity

I've come to realise that a good deal of my self-image has become irrevocably intertwined with my facial follicles.  I walk down the street and people take note, some strike up conversation and some speak in furtive whispers. Whichever the case may be, I'm still the guy with "the beard".

Some take their perverse interest a lot further by touching my face -- unprovoked, uninvited beard rape! They'll run their intrusive, probing phalanges in and out of my bushy face accoutrement commenting on how soft and clean it is. "How soft and clean", really?! How insulting; have people presumed that I've stopped washing?

These intrusions are akin to searching a pregnant woman's stomach with your hand-sonogram and bobbing for a fetus. Ask my permission and I'll more than likely grant you the privilege of stroking my face -- I'll more than likely enjoy it. However, I would like to know where your hands have been first.

Besides the local notoriety I've also gained a cloak of invisibility, a super-human ability to sneak past noticed, yet unnoticed -- as long as you've not seen me in the past 6 months. I've slipped past former colleagues, lovers, and frenemies without them even batting an eye. Quite a convenient talent for avoiding awkward, unwanted conversations.

Loves Labours Lost?

I apologise, Beard Lovers. I know I've skipped a week or so, but I was hoping the Valentine's holiday and proceeding days would provide more material for my promised "sexy-time" entry than it did. So let's just get down to it. (WARNING, this entry may be a little more explicit than normal.)


I had presumed that eventually this experiment would result in several months of celibacy (i.e February through December). However, I have discovered that most ladies I encounter find my new look rugged and Brawny Man sexy. They stroke my face and love how soft and luxurious it has become -- it really is quite amazing. 


Unfortunately, my interest in the vagina business has only been a passing fascination and as a friend once told me: "just because you occasionally stick your dick in a women doesn't mean you're bisexual -- it just means you've had too much to drink". Truer words have never been spoken.


Conversely, most men I discuss my beard with are in awe and express admiration. They either can't grow their facial hair because it's patchy and doesn't come in even or because something is holding them back -- like a partner or a job.


Overall, we are getting a good reception, but what about my target market? What about my dating pool? Then I think: maybe it's time to move to another pool. Maybe I need to stop rejecting all those I did in the past (e.g. those boys that look like I do now). Is this the first realisation of my shallow past? Only time will tell and I will, of course, keep you all posted. 

Condiments

Two entries in a row I'm discussing edibles -- in a manner of speaking. Let me say a few things about "Salt & Pepper". First, I'm not a fan of most condiments, but salt and pepper I like (probably due to the fact that they are more adequately classified as spices). Second, I love the chips. Third, I've always found the salt and pepper look attractive, mature but youthful -- distinguished even (and I don't use distinguished as a polite euphemism for "old").


That said, it is with mixed emotions that I come to terms with the fact that many of the lighter coloured hairs about my face and head are not the blonde that I have always insist they are -- they may, in point of fact, be "gray-ish" (no, close-ups will not be provided). On one hand, I don't mind as -- again -- I find it attractive. On the other hand, it looks a lot better with a full head of hair. Clearly the follicle fates have cursed me. I'm able to grow excessive amounts of hair every place except the one place that I want it and the hair I do grow there is having the colour of life sucked right out of it. Just for Men may need to be added to the grocery list next to the Rogaine.


Nickname update for the hecklers. This week I've been called a young Wilford Brimley and a fat Ted Kaczynski. Enjoy.


NEXT WEEK: The Year Beard's Impact on The Sexy Times

Close Calls

A look of panic swept across my hairy face when a friend recently told me that I had mashed potatoes in my beard. I grabbed the closest paper napkin and hurriedly attempted to remove all traces of the intruding tubers. Confident that the offending spuds had been vanquished I returned to my meal only to realise that a cheap paper napkin -- when scrubbed vigorously against facial hair -- leaves it's own curse - paper shrapnel. A vision of a near future in which I eat all of my meals through a straw enters my head.


Moments later I was also informed -- mid-application -- that peppermint lip balm dries out your lips. I'll miss that tingly bastard. 


I've learned a few other this week: shampoo in the eye burns and no one says "crème rinse" any more. (The latter may not be entirely true as I have been informed that a friend's grandmother is still actively using crème rinse.)

Adjectives

"Distinguished". "Rugged". "Grizzle". "Adams". All words used to describe me in the recent weeks. Personally, I feel "tenured" and "professor" are starting to foot the bill. Even with all the wonderful descriptors that have been developed recently, nothing profound has yet to happen.  I'm waiting on that skinny-girl-in-a-fat-suit moment.  That moment when I realise that people are starting to look at me a little differently.  Perhaps they are and I just haven't noticed yet.  Perhaps our culture has been supplanted by that of the hipster and I'm just blending in.  (As much as it pains my vanity I hope for the former.  My Brooks Brothers wardrobe could not abide the latter.) 

Extrapolations

Just a few days ago I took a pair of tweezers to my face.  The hair I painlessly extracted was blonde and approximately .8cm in length (not including the root).  After a little quick mathematics I've estimated that my beard length at year's end should be about 22.5cm (8.9in) - that's 18.7cm (7.4in) by Halloween.  So I guess my Patsy and Edina costume with Luke is out - Uni-bomber or Wizard it is.  I'm erring on the side of wizard - glitter cape.


Additionally, I'll need to make some changes to my morning routine.  Brushing my teeth will need to take place before I shower so that I may ensure that all the toothpaste is washed out of my beard.  I'll also need to start using shampoo - on the up side I'll be spending less money on pore refining facial cleansers and SPF 15 multi-vitamin alpha hydroxy moisturisers.

One Week Down

The end of week one and it looks like I've been on vacation and too lazy to shave.  My neck beard is much longer than I would normally tolerate and a halo is beginning to form around my head - I may need to look into some Rogaine Foam.  Conversely, my facial hair is a little shorter than I normally keep it.


It won't be long before I look like some unholy combination of Riff Raff, Joaquin Phoenix, and Dusty Hill.