Last night I mentioned to my wife that I planned to shave off my goatee today. I started growing one about six weeks ago mainly because I was bored with my standard Uncle Fester look, but I have been feeling like it does nothing to enhance my looks, and in fact makes me look older than I am. Making me look older or look like my father were deal-breakers in the goatee experiment. And the hot weather is coming, a time when hair on the face is not exactly welcome. If the non-winter we just had is any indication (sorry, House Stark, Winter isn't Coming, at least not to Pennsylvania this year) then I can expect a deadly hot and humid spring and summer. Sweating out through even a small beard is no fun -- I used to wear a full beard until it started going grey and a well-meaning woman in the Wendy's asked me how old was my granddaughter?
Long story less long, I mentioned to my wife that when I did my weekly haircut, as I usually do on a Thursday morning, I was taking off the whiskers.
She objected.
I was a bit surprised, because up until now she hadn't really weighed in on the whole "to grow or not to grow" issue. I asked her why she thought I should keep it.
She said, "Olivia [our daughter] likes it, and I think it gives your face a little character. It keeps you from looking like a roll-on deoderant."
(Italics mine.)
She then backpedaled a bit, no doubt due to the pained expression on my face. She commented that I looked better with it than without it, because without it I had the whole Uncle Fester thing going on. (And she's right, without it, I do.) She said that at the Oscars, Kevin Spacey and Tom Hanks were sporting new goatees, and Peter Gabriel, a musician she finds infinitely sexy, has worn one for years. So there's that.
And apparently, I also won't be mistaken for a vintage tube of Ban. That's how we roll here in Chez Borror-Hayes -- keepin' the romance alive.
Long story less long, I mentioned to my wife that when I did my weekly haircut, as I usually do on a Thursday morning, I was taking off the whiskers.
She objected.
I was a bit surprised, because up until now she hadn't really weighed in on the whole "to grow or not to grow" issue. I asked her why she thought I should keep it.
She said, "Olivia [our daughter] likes it, and I think it gives your face a little character. It keeps you from looking like a roll-on deoderant."
(Italics mine.)
She then backpedaled a bit, no doubt due to the pained expression on my face. She commented that I looked better with it than without it, because without it I had the whole Uncle Fester thing going on. (And she's right, without it, I do.) She said that at the Oscars, Kevin Spacey and Tom Hanks were sporting new goatees, and Peter Gabriel, a musician she finds infinitely sexy, has worn one for years. So there's that.
And apparently, I also won't be mistaken for a vintage tube of Ban. That's how we roll here in Chez Borror-Hayes -- keepin' the romance alive.
Not a roll-on or an Addams!
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