|Bakunin, a simple straggly beard|
that says "fuck you" to your
My straggly hair, short and fuzzy, became known by my students and when I attempted a shave around the first Christmas in the job the loss of class control, a sore point for me at the time, was astonishing. Basically the students lost respect for my lack of beard and played a little looser with the rules than usual. From that point I tended to keep a trimmed-ish beard. I trimmed it maybe once a half term, about every six weeks or so, with scissors to keep it 'neat'-ish and shaved the sides of my face - there was never much there, but the hair was getting darker and easier to spot. In 2005, while with Toby, I shaved the whole shebang off in February and had to wait until April before it had grown back sufficiently to need trimming or tidying up again.
|Kropotkin, an awesome sheep|
of facial hair that says "use
mutual aid and up yours" to
standard views of appropriate
|The full Marx, a classic that says, "from each according|
to his ability to each acc- fuck you, beard haters!"
Tilly had also made it known that she didn't like beards when we met. I offered to shave it off, not really going to, and then she saw a picture of me when I was at Sixth Form - clean shaven. And a picture of me accepting my MA some five years later - clean shaven. She decided that I looked twelve in both images and that she'd be some kind of cradle snatcher if I were clean shaven. And that was that.
EDIT - I can't seem to make blogger caption that image there to your right. Bollocks. If I could it would say "Something like this. The dress goes further but fails completely to cover the ankles, something you can't see in this cropped version - typical male in a dress? Loving the faux fur at the top there. Also: coconut hairdo! A beard that says, "I'm so pretty, oh so pret- up yours!""
Lately, though, it got very much in the way. I was eating a ham sandwich a couple of days ago and every mouthful came with added hair, despite my best efforts to train the moustache hair away from my mouth. I mean: eeew! Also, the last week and a bit have been... wobbly. The beard wasn't offensive enough any more and was failing in its most basic duty of pissing people off. The only person it was pissing off was me.
So I got rid of it.
I had a haircut yesterday, they didn't do wet shaves, and then retired home. I took about forty minutes to myself in the bathroom and, to the strains of Kate Bush's Aerial on the evil iPad, I shaved the entire hairy mess from my face. I took my time, using scissors, razor and a host of soap-based product built up over the years from people assuming that because I have a beard that grows as a goatee I must be perpetually shaving my cheeks and neck (it just doesn't grow there much, I have a natural goatee). It was nice. About as close as I'll ever come to having a pampering session I suspect and about as scented as I think I'll get away with. No aftershave though, haven't had any of that since about 2002!
So, yes, my chin has now been naked in public and made any kind of physicality between myself and Tilly while watching a DVD last night impossible. I had a beer too, but was unable to get a review done and it was last night now so... it wouldn't be right to try and review it now. I'd have it again though, so it's not too bad. I dunno, can I still review beers now I have a smooth bumface? "Control, you must learn control." From Gandhi to Yoda over two posts, nice.