This week, after almost two months of cultivating a beard, I’ve shaved it off.
Two months is a bit of an average effort. It turns out growing a beard isn’t the hard part, keeping it is.
I’ve heard of people celebrating the one-year mark with a ‘‘yeard’’ party and that’s probably also the point at which you either hit peak beard or decide you’re beard guy and keep it for life.
And as beards go, mine wasn’t really that special but now that its gone I can’t help feeling a bit sad about it.
Sadder still is that no one has even noticed it’s gone.
Now I have to re-acquaint myself with my not very prominent chin, so it’s a blessing that I can’t see it unless I look in a mirror.
Now I know you’re all glancing downwards.
So on the plus side no more foodbeard meetings and rogue whiskers making their way into my nostril.
I swear people must have thought I had a coke habit with all of the sniffing and nose rubbing.
On the downside, increased risk of facial frostbite. Of course I’d have to actually go outside first.