As you may be able to tell, I have facial hair. The excellent profile picture I have which I take no credit for apart from owning the face that makes up the picture makes this facial hair look wonderfully clean and non scraggly: almost beard like. This is not what my beard looked like at all. It was a mess and scraggly and just generically horrible. Beards are weird things to scratch and I was freaking out a bit about it. But I thought I would be able to manage it: not flip and just live with it. This morning the urge was too great though. The time had come.
The central problem I have is this. If the beard grows too long, it makes me look like some sort of drug taking homeless person that needs food and love and care yet just gets shit thrown at them. If I have no facial hair, I look like some twelve year old boy who’s voice is yet to break and is frequently bullied. Striking a balance is a hard task to carry out and is the hardest part of my personal appearance. I had no wish to revert to twelve year old status.
I decided to throw financial investment into this project and do it. £20 of my money went on a beard trimmer. I have some sort of in built fear of electric shavers. Wet razors are fine. Wet razors are easy. You just put some foam on your face, move the razor and try not to dig to hard cause then you cut yourself. Electric shavers are menacing, noisy and just scary. I got home, went straight to the bathroom. I got this shaver out the pack, worked out what I was doing… and did it.
The result? Fine. There is nothing to be scared of. I look more twelve year old than planned but that’s because I hadn’t got used to thing. At least I don’t look like a drug addict. It never bodes well for exams.
Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.- A.E. Housman warning of the perils of multi-tasking when shaving. It’s too true.