Lament for My Beard

Well, it’s that time of year again. Time to shave off my loveliest feature. I have great admiration for my beard. When it is with me I feel safe and warm. I feel confident and cool winded. When it is gone, I am naked and lost. It takes a few weeks to adjust. But I never fully adjust.

So why do I shave it? I ask myself that question every time the razor hits the skin. I don’t have a good answer. I have a stupid answer. I have two stupid answers actually. The first is that I don’t feel like I look normal wearing shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops while accompanied by facial hair. I don’t know why but I associate beard and shorts with dirty hippie. And by no means am I aiming to offend all the dirty hippies out there. I just don’t think I pull that look off very well. I wish I did, as I would like to keep the beard all year round.

The second reason is humidity. I have the kind of hair on my head and within my beard which gets a bit unruly, itchy and huge in humid weather. June is okay. But once July comes its itch-scratch central. It isn’t fun.

But I must say this, I am a beard person. The beard is me. I think it defines me. The guy without the beard (the summer guy) is a bit off centre. A bit lost, and a bit messed up. So with that I say to my friend, “Goodbye buddy, I’ll see you around September time. I love you and I’ll miss you very much.”

Latronic,
Dee