I’d like to set the record straight.
I’m not a hipster. I’m not a lumbersexual. I’m not a grooming enthusiast. Hell, I’m barely a hygiene enthusiast…
I get a lot of questions about my beard; fair enough, since it is a perceivable physical manifestation of biological processes existing in three-dimensional space, and is as liable to discussion as any other real or unreal thing.
Taking a final deep breath before stepping onto the lifting platform at the CFNV Challenge.
But that’s pretty much the extent of it. This is just the way I look today.
When people ask me for facial-hair advice, I don’t know what to say. Growing a beard is one of the easiest things in the world. You just stop touching your face for a few months. Your body’s basic functions will take care of the rest. In this regard, growing a beard may be even easier than pooping. Think about it.
So many people have trouble pooping, that we have a word for it: constipation. To my knowledge, there is no such word related to beard growing, because growing a beard is easy (although, if such a word were to be required, I humbly submit “con-sti-FACE-ion” as my contribution to the lexicon).
So, to all you self-proclaimed lumbersexuals, vagabonds (*cringe*), and manly-men: you can cut the crap.
I used to read men’s magazines. For a while, I counted myself among the hordes that scavenged the pages for any hint at how to act, how to look. How to be myself. Which subtle combo of wristwatch, tie, and socks I should use to “make a statement” (has anyone ever figured out what that statement was, exactly?).
I no longer subscribe to the notion that “the clothes make the man.” Or that the job title makes the man. Or that a beard makes a man. Or, for that matter, that a “man” is anything more than an XY chromosome profile.
That guy with the impeccably manscaped chest, the epic, waxed and styled facial hair, and that ridiculous undercut man-bun? You don’t really know anything about him, other than that he’s spent a lot of money on body waxing, beard oil and barbershop appointments. Big whoop.
This is not to disparage that man. I live and let live. Do whatever brings you joy, bro. I just don’t think we’d have much to talk about at a party. I don’t use pounds of product on my facial hair. I don’t perfume it with designer oils that were concocted by a chemist with soft hands. In reality, most of the time my beard probably smells like sweat, gym chalk, or ocean spray. This is a result of the way I choose to live my life.
The point of this article is not to tell you how to live your life or groom your beard. The point is to provide insight into why I happen to look the way I do, and to share my personal truth:
A beard is not itself an ambition. A beard is what happens when you’re busy with more important things.
