I Decided To Grow A Beard And Truthfully, It’s The Best Thing To Ever Happen To Me

So, I decided to grow a beard.

Hold your applause till the end.

Why, you ask?

The inquisitive type, are we?

Well, I’m glad you did.

Here’s why.

My face was cold .  Have you ever tried being a sane, caring parent trying to hold down a good job and making ends meet with a perpetually cold face? Exactly.

Shaving is boring .  No one, and I repeat, no one, likes shaving and yet almost everyone does it. I believe I was put here on Earth to show others that shaving is a complete and utter waste of time. Freedom, at last!

Providing happiness .  I just challenge you to rub your face or back (depending on which way you are facing at the time) against the lovely coarseness of my untrimmed facial hair and not leave happier (and less itchy!) than you were before. All I ask is that you book ahead.

I’m now part of an exclusive club .  All of the sudden, with beard in hand (or on face, to be precise) I am part of this really cool club with other bearded men whom are always nodding or winking or tipping their hat at me. Oh, the things we do in this amazing club…(I’m still a little unclear on what these things are).

I do have things to hide .  Others are always joking that I must have things to hide, to which I stare at them, unblinking, before slowly breaking out into a mischievous grin and then backing away.

It’s all fun and games .  When playing dress-up, I finally always get to play the part of the wolf or mangy dog, which just happen to be my favourites.

It makes me feel like a man .  And to think I used to feel like a man!? What was I smoking? Now, I feel so much like a man, it’s almost too much and it both scares and excites me.

It is more fun to think .  Pre-beard, I used to ponder life’s big questions by rubbing my clean chin stroking some imaginary beard like a loser. Now I can gaze off into the distance, wax philosophical and stroke my very real beard to the envy and disdain of all.

To prove I can .  Growing up, random people were always coming up to me aggressively teasing that I couldn’t grow a beard, reducing me to tears .  it literally happened all the time. LOOK AT ME NOW, ASSHATS!

Helping around the house .  In a pinch, I can be held from my feet and used as a broom. If only I wasn’t so allergic to dust!

To make others jealous .  My wife and kids, for example, think they are sooo amazing and are always lording their greatness over me. Can’t grow a beard, though, can you! Wife & Kids 12, Dad 1.

Money, Money, Money .  People may come up to me on the street and offer me cold, hard cash for having a beard. It hasn’t happened yet, but a man can hope. I’m also saving a fortune on shaving cream, razors, and fake beards for themed-dress up days at work.

Am I okay? Others seem to be worried why I’ve stopped shaving and left normalness behind. They may think that I’ve either given up or that I’ve finally lost it or joined a cult. They tiptoe around, handle me with kid gloves, and go out of their way not to anger, upset or set me off in any way…it’s wonderful!

Hormones. For years now I haven’t been taking advantage of the massive amount of testosterone (according to science!) coursing through my veins. What a waste! No longer! And, as an added bonus, people now expect me to act aggressively by default which makes driving and ordering at a restaurant much more satisfying.

I feel more like Jesus .  Though, considering it was at zero before, that’s not saying much.