Sunday, 17 April 2011

Okay, so it's got to the stage where I should probably address this in writing:

Despite every sign pointing to the fact that I'm physically incapable of doing so, at this moment in time I am actively trying to grow a beard. I am cultivating, nurturing and encouraging. Anyway, it's been a couple of weeks now and, I kid you not, I saw an old lady in Morrisons the other day with a more impressive showing than me. Although I'm probably being too hard on myself as her effort consisted of a handful of hairs, maybe thirty or so at a push. I have at least 31. Win.

Hmmm, so, yeah, I thought that by getting this beardy admission out there I would maybe feel a little better about the whole thing - and that maybe some of the burden would be removed. I don't think it's helping though.

It's a strange thing as sometimes I'll catch my reflection in a mirror or some other surface and think "yeah, that looks impressive" or, if I'm feeling particularly buoyant, it can manifest in something like "go for it my son!" But then there are also times (far more frequent times) when I will see my reflection and think something along the lines of "Adam, that looks shit." I think the problem is often that I see my offering more as an apology than a beard... especially when you come face to face with a fully-paid-up, card-carrying veteran of the beard wearing scene. I mean, really, it goes without saying that these fuckers will send an aspiring beard-grower like myself into a spiralling vortex of self-pity and embarrassment, but I'll say it anyway. Of course, when we've come to our senses, woken up and realised that this facial hair lark just isn't for us, done the sensible thing and shaved, well... well then we can go back to simply admiring the beard from afar. We can appreciate it at face value (beard value,) freed from the all-encompassing gloom of self-loathing.

Conversely, even people like me have our little moments of satisfaction when we stumble across others in what seems to be a worse position than ourselves. And because these situations can be few and far between, the victory is a sweet one. In fact I almost felt this rare and sweet sensation of victory with the old lady in Morrisons but for two reasons; firstly, the fact that she was an old lady, and, secondly, the thickness of those hairs. She was showing substantial girth.

On the plus side, I think it's going well.
Or maybe I don't. I dunno...

I think I'm going to stick it out for a for more days yet. I'm starting to think that it could be like that awkward stage people go through when they're trying to grow their hair long. When it's too long to be short, and too short to be long, so instead resides in some kind of no man's land in between. Maybe that's what's happening, right? Hmmm. I shall plough this furrow for the foreseeable future. I'll keep you posted.

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