A little while ago, I stopped shaving. I had the flu for about five days, and already had a five-day shadow developed when that began. Then with a lack of social engagements, I decided to let it keep growing, lest I lose such a generous head start that only began because I was too lazy when I was sick.
I took this picture, and it was more than three weeks without touching a razor at that point.
Aaron always keeps a neatly trimmed beard, so I asked him how he takes care of it; which direction to shave, what length to start trimming, etc. It was strange to be seeking shaving advice from someone at this point in my life. Most of the hair is around the mouth and on chin, with only an embarrassing half-dozen wires sprouting randomly from my cheeks, so it required a touch of maintenance.
For a long time, I didn’t know what to think of it, whether I liked it or not. Aaron said to me, “Sometimes, you don’t need to know”, and I went with that for a while. Maybe time would give me an answer.
Soon after, I started shaving again. It wasn’t getting any thicker, and I didn’t think I could pull it off.
I turn 30 in 11 months, and I still can’t grow a beard.