I was growing some awesome facial hair for my upcoming 50th birthday. The no shave November thing started it off (which I still don’t fully understand by the way but that’s for another time) and once December hit I was cracking myself up every morning when I looked in the mirror so it was staying. (I really need to cut down on these thought bubbles because that sentence was atrocious.) I should have realized that this relationship wasn’t going to work out when I was shopping for mustache wax on the line. Instead my broken brain romanticized the ass-pain and ordered the wax and a tiny comb.
I should let you know that the reason I don’t fully shave is pure lazy necessity. If I were to shave clean in the morning, by early afternoon I would have a weird blue looking Fu Manchu thing going on. This could be taken care of by an inconvenient afternoon touch-up shave but aint nobody got time fo dat. So I grow a once a week mowed facial lawn around my mouth. I used to have a full beard but once the hair went away the beard to nowhere cracked me up but came with its own problems.
I took this selfie to send to my eldest child and asked what she thought of my new look. I knew I was going to take the thing out because it was getting annoying. The night before when I was having sleep troubles I swore that the beard woke me up at least once.