I am growing a beard. Not that this is new. I’ve grown a beard before, usually about every two weeks because I’m too lazy to shave. It’s true. Why say otherwise? Every time I notice I’m growing a beard, I think of the Lagwagon song “Razor Burn.” If you’re not familiar with it, it goes a little something like this:
She broke up with me.
Two days later, she met Don Juan in Italy
She has a new man, I have a new mustache.
Now all my friends are gonna call me mountain man
And everyone will think that I’m a stupid drifter
To walk the earth alone, I’ll never shave again.
Granted, no one broke up with me. I’m married. Married people don’t break up. Married people get divorced and I am not getting divorced. This is also not a beard of shame. As I said a few sentences ago, it began as a beard of laziness. Now it’s just a beard. It’s funny too. This beard. I’ll grow it to a certain point and like it, and then the very next day it’ll look different and I’ll look at myself in the mirror and say, “Self, you look like an idiot. Shave your face.”
My wife likes it though. I’m not sure why, so I’ll keep it — at least for a few more days until it gets super itchy. No, I do not have a picture. My wife has the family camera. Maybe I’ll take a picture in a few days and post it. Maybe. Just maybe.