For almost exactly a year, I had a full beard. Just a few days ago, I shaved it off.
My face feels naked. And cold.
It’s amazing how a mundane thing like being clean-shaven can affect one’s life. I’ve been told by a couple girls that I am actually almost moderately attractive in some way when clean-shaven. Of course, they are lying, but it’s a different lie than I’m used to and so it is interesting.
It took me nearly an hour to shave it all off. I was being extra careful, because I was using a cheap disposable razor and because I’m a horrible klutz. One of the reasons I grew a beard in the first place was to hide the cuts and scrapes I’d previously given myself while shaving.
I also grew it because the lower half of my face is unnaturally freakish, a fact I had unfortunately forgotten when I had opted to shave off my beard. (Luckily, the upper half of my face is uglier still, taking attention away from the freakish lower half.)
When I looked in the mirror immediately after the deed, wisps of shaving foam still flecked on my cheeks and small piles of hair giving the sink the appearance of having recently housed an exploding chinchilla, I noticed that I look like a completely different person when clean-shaven. You’d think that would be a good thing.
People used to jokingly call me Jesus, because a had a full beard and was scrawny and white, just like the traditional depiction of Jesus. They also called me Jesus for ironic reasons, since I am an atheist. But now, after having shaved off what my friends humorously called my “chin pubes”, people don’t call me Jesus anymore. I guess I can return the sandals and robe, but it’ll take some cleaning to find the receipt for that crown of thorns. Oh well.
I’m already letting the stubble grow out again. I like to think it makes me look rugged. More likely I look like a hobo. But that’s ok with me, so long as I look like a rugged hobo.
After that one last fling as a clean-shaven man, I have decided to never shave my face again.
Life is so much simpler when one gives up shaving. I bleed a lot less now, for instance. I also have a few extra minutes to sleep in mornings. Perhaps the best benefit of being bearded is that when the beard gets scraggly and long, I can tousle my hair and give myself the image of being someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
Not that I’d ever hang around in a dark alley. They scare me.
The main problem with this is that one must be prepared to put up with a certain level of “shack in Montana” jokes from one’s roommates.
I think it’s worth it.
Besides, my face feels cold. And naked.
