Beard Watch '06
12.12.6
I had hoped that this year's finished beard would be a noticeable step up from last year's. While daily side-by-side comparisons do indeed show that my facial hair growing ability has improved...the difference is slight. In this way, Beard Watch '06 was at the same time a small victory and a resounding failure.
I suppose progress is progress, though...right?
In the event that explanations are in order: Beard Watch is the offspring of an idea we came up with at work last year. About a month before Thanksgiving, we would stop shaving our faces altogether. No trimming, no grooming...nothing. We were not to let our girlfriends/wives bully us into shaving. We would come into work looking like crap each day, and love it. It was an act of corporate rebellion, and some kind of social statement, all at once.
Or maybe it was just a stupid little game for us boys to play.
In either case, the second annual installment of this experiment in male bonding has officially made it tradition.
I'm now looking forward to Beard Watch '07. As a friend of mine recently pointed out...these documentations thus far would have been more appropriately titled "Moustache Watch." Even though I'm now 25, I still can't seem to grow a proper beard. My cheeks are bare, and while the right side of my face now has a narrow line of hair along the jaw line, the left side remains patchy. I again can only hope that another year will be enough time for some of these areas to start filling in.
Recently, I went in for a haircut.
I really hate getting haircuts. I'm always completely nervous that the hairstylist is going to fuck it up somehow. I generally avoid going for as long as possible for this very reason. It also bothers me that I'm unsure of what to call these places. The words "salon" and "barber" technically refer to more specialized businesses, and don't really describe your average run-of-the-mill Great Clips or Supercuts. The most widely-accepted term for these places seems to be the overly generic "haircut place."
Personally, I suggest we add the word "haircuttery" to the English lexicon. "I went to the haircuttery last night to get a trim." It has a nice ring to it, I rather think.
Getting back to the point...
While getting this haircut, I assumed my usual eyes-down guarded posture. I've found that doing this will usually stop a hairstylist from attempting conversation. I've simply no taste for small talk. I'll do nearly anything to avoid it, as I usually don't have any of the correct responses.
I watched as the clumps of hair fell past my eyes to gather on my plastic covered lap. Suddenly, something caught my eye. Three. Four. Five. Half a dozen gray hairs intermixed with the rest. "Did those come from me?" I asked.
She seemed surprised at the question. "Yeah. Those came from you," she replied, her tone seeming to add, "Where else would they come from, stupid?"
I always knew I would start graying early, I suppose. It's in my genes. If memory serves me correctly, my mother began going gray when she was 16. Maybe I should feel lucky, then. At least I got 9 more good years than she did.
I still find it a bit ironic, though.
I'm already getting gray hairs, and this is the best beard I can grow...
I told that little story and punch line 3 separate times at a recent party. To be fair, I made sure that I was around a completely different group of people each time. I hate those assholes that subject a room full of people to the same damn joke every time someone new shows up.
