Thirty days had NoShavember. I made it through eleven. It just got too itchy. (That's what she said?)
There shall be no pictures because, well, that would only serve to embarrass myself, as well as possibly some of my family. Also, I did not take any. That's a lie. I took a couple, but the hair wasn't showing up to my satisfaction, so I deleted them. Must've been bad lighting.
However, the entire experience has given me a new-found respect for the guys in ZZ Top, Duck Dynasty, and my uncle Carl.
I saw that many of the people participating in NoShavember were doing so to raise awareness for some charity or cause. This sounded like an excellent idea. So I dedicated my NoShavember to raising awareness of my own laziness, which was, ironically, the main reason I was even participating in the first place!
But it wasn't the only reason.
Once in a while a guy just needs to grow some hair on his face. Amiright, guys? Just to prove he can, or maybe for no reason at all.
You see, those fertile facial fields are the last bastion of male expression and self-experimentation. Sure, we still have the toilet, but no one gets to see what we do in there. (FYI, it's mostly reading and pondering our how our life turned out like this. Maybe an occasional nap.)
These little beard and moustache excursions? This is all we have.
We understand women are ultimately going to get their way in pretty much every other decision. (I'm sorry my future son that I hope to have, if you're reading this, but it's true.) We know your little ploys. We know you got rid of our favorite shirt from 1987 and then pretended to be all dismayed and you "don't know WHAT could have possibly happened to it."
But somewhere along the way, a deal must have been struck, perhaps a line drawn. Men said, "Enough!"
You can put your frilly rugs and decorative lamps and froufrou throw pillows all over the house. You can throw away our twenty-year-old clothes when we're at work. You can even force us to begrudgingly pose for pictures and post them to your precious Facebook wall. But this -- *admiringly rubbing my chin* -- this is where it ends.
So next time you see a guy sporting facial hair, no matter how hideous or 1970's-porn-star-ish it may be -- and it will be -- perhaps you'll have a little more compassion, maybe even a modicum of respect for those amber waves of keratin.
Remember, he's just exercising his right to be a man. In the only way that he knows. The only way that he has. Putting his manhood on display for all the world to see.
"They come runnin' just as fast as they can / 'Cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man..."
There shall be no pictures because, well, that would only serve to embarrass myself, as well as possibly some of my family. Also, I did not take any. That's a lie. I took a couple, but the hair wasn't showing up to my satisfaction, so I deleted them. Must've been bad lighting.
However, the entire experience has given me a new-found respect for the guys in ZZ Top, Duck Dynasty, and my uncle Carl.
I saw that many of the people participating in NoShavember were doing so to raise awareness for some charity or cause. This sounded like an excellent idea. So I dedicated my NoShavember to raising awareness of my own laziness, which was, ironically, the main reason I was even participating in the first place!
But it wasn't the only reason.
Once in a while a guy just needs to grow some hair on his face. Amiright, guys? Just to prove he can, or maybe for no reason at all.
You see, those fertile facial fields are the last bastion of male expression and self-experimentation. Sure, we still have the toilet, but no one gets to see what we do in there. (FYI, it's mostly reading and pondering our how our life turned out like this. Maybe an occasional nap.)
These little beard and moustache excursions? This is all we have.
We understand women are ultimately going to get their way in pretty much every other decision. (I'm sorry my future son that I hope to have, if you're reading this, but it's true.) We know your little ploys. We know you got rid of our favorite shirt from 1987 and then pretended to be all dismayed and you "don't know WHAT could have possibly happened to it."
But somewhere along the way, a deal must have been struck, perhaps a line drawn. Men said, "Enough!"
You can put your frilly rugs and decorative lamps and froufrou throw pillows all over the house. You can throw away our twenty-year-old clothes when we're at work. You can even force us to begrudgingly pose for pictures and post them to your precious Facebook wall. But this -- *admiringly rubbing my chin* -- this is where it ends.
So next time you see a guy sporting facial hair, no matter how hideous or 1970's-porn-star-ish it may be -- and it will be -- perhaps you'll have a little more compassion, maybe even a modicum of respect for those amber waves of keratin.
Remember, he's just exercising his right to be a man. In the only way that he knows. The only way that he has. Putting his manhood on display for all the world to see.
"They come runnin' just as fast as they can / 'Cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man..."
