Barber Appointment

Next week’s December.  I called my barber yesterday and made an appointment for a haircut that includes beard-reduction.  I’ll be glad to get back home and shave it off, completely.

My earnest hope is that after a month of feeding daily on the remnants of Halloween candy, I won’t have developed so much chin-flab I no longer have a discernible jaw-line.  I did throw away about a pound of small Whoppers packages instead of eating them, though. It rained hard October 31, so we had only four Trick-or-Treaters.

Unavoidable and irksome busyness has kept me from riding my accustomed 80 to 100 miles a week, and that’s also contributed to my middle-aged fat.  Cosmetic surgery’s out of the question because we’ve got a couple of upcoming expenses.

On account of all that, this next month will have to be Disciplined December.

No Shave November

Or, Hating the Beard

Golf-Beard
I Hate This Stupid Beard

It feels horrible and looks just as bad.  When I was in my twenties, the beard had a lot of reddish tones in it.  They’ve been replaced in middle-age by white and gray hairs. 

This is the first the year I’ve participated in the No-Shave-November fad.  As my cousin Valerie noted, it’s a special kind of cool to take part in a fad after it’s no longer fashionable.  The beard would look better if I had some way of keeping it trimmed and well-defined, but I don’t think I will grow another beard so I won’t spend the money for a Norelco beard trimmer.

I thought the beard might help to camouflage my less than adequate facial symmetry, but it’s instead accentuated it.

Come December, this facial hair’s got a date with my barber.

Winsome-Beard