Monday, December 6, 2010

It's just as I feared, my beard has disappeared

Well, I have shaved off my beard, and, after a sufficient period of mourning, I have found the courage to write about it.

Don’t blame my wife because it isn’t her fault. My wife is very sweet and told me that I am a grown person, can groom myself however I want and if I want to look like a homeless drifter it is my business. That is fortunate, because if she had demanded that I shave I would have grown the beard longer just to spite her. I am a man and I am in control of my own face! More or less.

I decided shaving was in my best interest (see the “Spousal Kisses versus Beardity” graph) so I just got out the shaving cream, cried a little and did the deed. I don’t miss it too terribly, but it is strange to see my own face again. Plus, shaving a beard adds, like, 30 pounds to your face. And my face always feels cold now.

Not only did my wife hate to kiss me when I was bearded, but she is also half-Cuban and believes that all bearded men are communists. (Fidel and Che ruined it for everyone. Thanks for nothing, fellas!) My wife got this deep-seated political beard belief from her mother, who fled Cuba in the ‘60s to escape Castro’s regime. As you can imagine, the beard made my mother-in-law very uneasy.

But now the beard is gone and family relations are once again firing on all cylinders. It’s not over, though. I told my wife that she hadn’t seen the last of The Beard, and it would likely return when she least expected it like some villain in a bad movie sequel. I told my wife I will probably re-grow it when we’ve been married a long time, are bored of each other and aren’t kissing anyway.

Problem solved.

Have you ever done something you didn't want to do for love? Leave a comment, if you please.