It’s now been nearly two months since the lockdown order was issued for my home state. Much has happened during that time, including an action that I never took before and expect that I never will again: growing out the hairs on my face.
I have added a picture here for posterity’s sake. With a directive to be clean-shaven at work, and a natural preference for looking that way in the first place, my routine over the course of my adult life has been shaving on Monday, Wednesday, and usually Fridays, and leaving it alone on the other days of the week. Shaving usually takes about three minutes to accomplish, but I can’t say that I enjoy doing it.
When the lockdown started in March, I realized this was a chance to let my facial hair breathe a litle bit. March gave way to April, and then April to May, and now I have a mangy tangle of mostly gray hairs all over my face. The discomfort of what felt like dozens of worms crawling all over my face is now gone, and I don’t mind the look, either. I’ll never write like Hemingway, but having a beard lets me at least borrow his look a little bit.
With the impending arrival of a long holiday weekend, I should have ample opportunity to lather up and finally take this thing off my face. It could be a difficult process, since I’m not getting rid of the little stubble that I’m used to dealing with. Its removal will likely serve as a closure of some sort, but nothing lasts forever, and that goes double for my ronabeard.
I’ll post something again once the deed is done, and there’s a small chance that I’ll just let it ride until I go back to work in an office again. But at this point, a clean break (or perhaps a clean shave?) is what I need the most.