Ever since I was a young girl, I have wanted to grow a beard. I may have even said it here before, but up until I was about 11 years old, I thought I could grow a beard when I grew up. And then the news hit me like a giant iron falling from a skinny grandmother’s 6th floor apartment window on my head—girls could not grown beards (of course, I would not learn till much later that they could but it took a little modern medicine intervention or hormonal fluctuations or some girls here and there can just do it all on there own).
As a kid in the bath, I would lather on big, whimsical soapsuds all over my cheeks and then with my mama’s orange and white bic shaver (razor cover intact) I would peel back the fluffy, fizzly soap to reveal my soft, peachy cheeks. I would do it over and over and over again.
I would imagine what my curly, dark brown beard to match my head hair would look like as I grew into a young adult and envision growing it as long as I could and then trimming it up all neat and tight and handsome.
Then my world was torn apart by the biological reality that growing a beard was most likely not going to come all that smoothly for me, so I got all heart-broken and sad and then, well, I moved on.
Well, I did not really move on. I still love beards. Thick, sweeping beards and neatly trimmed beards and absurd beards that grow so long and full critters might just be living up inside them. And every once in awhile I put some sheep hair on my face with some spirit gum and sport my own beard. But fake beards are cumbersome and simply not the real deal.
Speaking of the real deal, I do have a little fur patch that grows up under my chin. It is on the right side of my face and can get rather thick. But it is odd and not placed symmetrically. K is always trying to pluck it away (I think if it was not a deformed patch and grew more uniformly and front and center on my chin she would not be up in arms) and sometimes my little sister waxes it off and grits her teeth with a that’s disgusting sort of air. Personally, I do not mind it since it is the closest I may ever come to growing the real thing. Except if I already grow so much hair as a 32 year old, what’s going to happen when I hit my 60s? I’ll probably be a bristly old thing—a brillo-like spike of a chin that will pierce through my kk’s elderly supple flesh and leave her bloody.
But I digress. I like beards--beards for me. I do not get turned on by men's beards since I prefer the sweet, softer than peach fur cheeks of ladies. But for me for me...I have wanted all kinds of facial hair--side burns and such to sport my creative hair flare in new and interesting ways.
Lately, I've wanted the hair and sideburns and even the wispy facial hair of Tom Waits as he appeared on the cover of Blue Valentine.
And always I could go for the Bruce Springsteen hair--all of it as he appeared on the cover of his box set Tracks.
Oh me and my beard dreams...
4 comments:
"But fake beards are cumbersome and simply not the real deal."
fwiw, real beards are cumbersome too... sure, there's no spirit gum involved in a real beard, but still - not really all that fun. Some grow beards because they don't like shaving. I shave because I don't like having a beard.
If you want follicles (and I obviously don't), can we work some kind of trade? That'd be awesomest.
Ha. I figured real beards are a pain in the ass for many dudes, but at least if ever you want to sport the stache or the g-tee or some enormous chops you got the goods. let's play freaky friday and switch for one day:)
i like the idea of monster shaving cream. and that it is blue.
i also like you. 5 hairs or not.
haha...i love it. i also have the facial hair from hell, i pluck often or i would have a raging beard! don't say LUCKY! neil says he'd like to see me one day when i'm older and let it go and twist bones into it and become a shaman!
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