a beard anchors a face
Before I shaved them off, my ladyfriend used to make all sorts of cracks about my hilariously white-trash muttonchops being load-bearing. By the time I put them to the razor, I half expected it to compromise the structural integrity of my face, which I imagined (in the worst-case scenario) would subsequently collapse into a mess of gory kibble.
I'm currently stuck in the no-man's land of beardedness and non-beardedness, myself. I'm on holiday for a week and I was halfway there already, so I thought I would abstain from all human contact and engaging in some hardcore growthing. It is now Wednesday, and the itching has subsided (which is a Good Thing). Unfortunately, I now look like a yeti (though due to a clever trim job, I look like a yeti with a fantastically defined jaw). I go back to university next Tuesday - assuming I keep it by then, I plan on shocking and awing (awe-ing? aweing? oaring? kekekeke) my drinking buddies with my ruggedly boho countenance. |
