A man can only take so much abuse before he crumbles into a weeping heap ala Jim Carrey in Ace Ventura sobbing in the shower upon realizing it wasn’t a gun and “she” was quite happy to see him.
The beating I took over the last 2 months was second to none – my beard was that ugly. Someone at work described it as “looking at pornography.” I completely misunderstood the intention of that comment and replied with, “yeah, it’s pretty awesome”, to which she replied, “Uh, that’s not really how I’d describe porn – I meant it was disturbing and gross to look at – creep.”
To each their own I guess.
The things I’ll miss about that legendary beard:
- homeless people not asking me for money because they assumed I, too, was homeless
- pretending like it was just my beard making my face look fat, and not my cheeks and extra chin growth since my knee damage and subsequent lack of exercise (going on 5 months)
- the way my Supercuts hair dresser’s eyes would light up with the assumption that I was about to pay an extra 15 bucks for a 30 second shave.
- The practical jokes at my expense. I was fortunate enough to find this image taped to my monitor the other day.
- The way my neck mocked my cheeks for its insufficient coverage.
- Not having sex.
- According to my wife – nothing.
- Taking pictures of it.
- the attention being diverted from my round belly. I had this exchange with my daughter the other night:
Lucy: “Daddy -whas dat?”
Me: “That’s my tummy honey.”
Lucy: “You got a baby?”
Me: “Oh that’s cute – the sincerity of that question hurts me on the inside.”
Lucy: “You need band-aid?”
Me: “Go get daddy a beer…and a bigger t-shirt.”
Ah, the memories. I’ll miss you beard. I hope to see again sometime soon.
The Naked Faced Avocado