HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
|
HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
|
Saturday, February 18, 2006Moustache Tales
I wear a beard for a number of reasons. The biggest reason, I guess, is that my wife likes me with one. Way the hell back when we worked together at a bookstore--before we even started dating--I'd grown one of my first tentative experiments with facial hair, a goatee and had gotten sick of it and shaved it off. She made a comment to me along the lines of, "Oh, you shaved your beard" in a tone which implied that she wasn't nuts about my clean-shaven face. I grew it back immediately.
There are other reasons. I have an awareness of my weak chin, which always makes me look like a hillbilly of some sort when I get my first glimpse of myself in the mirror after shaving everything off. Also, like most men, I'm just sort of fascinated by the fact that I can grow facial hair. It has that same kind of "hey, cool" factor as a yo-yo. "Check out what I can do!" But I get sick of it every once in awhile. I get tired of the same old thing on my face and I look for excuses to get rid of it for awhile, usually not getting rid of the whole thing, but toying around with muttonchops or reminding myself why nobody should wear a handlebar moustache. Often the shaving catalyst is something gross. Like the time I ate corn on the cob and, failing to properly clean my moustache, got a whiff of rancid three-hour-old butter directly under my nose. Or the time I couldn't properly eat a simple bowl of fucking soup without some of it running all over my face. Today, I came very close to getting rid of the whole kit and caboodle. I was sitting at the computer ('cause that's what I tend to do) and I sneezed. Just a simple little sneeze. Didn't think anything of it. Until about twenty minutes later when I went to itch my nose and found a clump of snot clinging to my moustache which I'd failed to notice because I couldn't fucking feel it. Ick. I did not shave it off. But I trimmed the motherfucker to within an inch of its life. And I'm avoiding corn on the cob for awhile.
|
|
|||
| . | |||||
