How's That Beard Working Out For You?

I’ve been growing a beard for about a month now. Saturday night I was at a show and I saw this comic I hadn’t seen in awhile. He asked me, “How’s that beard working out for you?

What am I supposed to say? “Great, actually. He shows up on time and types 75 words per minute.”

I don’t really understand the concept of a beard “working out.” As if I grew it with the expectation that amazing things would happen once I grew one. I slogged through 25 plus years of life, but who knew all my questions would be answered by refusing to pick up a razor for a couple weeks. What is it going to do, create opportunities for me? Look out, Success, here I come now that I can play Abe Lincoln in community theater.  

I get more comments on my beard than any other part of my physical appearance. You’d think the majority of attention would go to my striking blue eyes or my impeccable taste in Virginia Tech t-shirts (95% of which were Drillfield giveaways). Before, I never understood why the beard got all the attention. But now I think I do.

A beard is a choice.

Growing a beard takes bravery. First of all, you need to make sure you’ll have sufficient coverage. Without facial coverage, you’ll look like a chump who taped pubes to his face in a desperate attempt to look like Paul Bunyan. Secondly, very few people have the courage to advertise their laziness as brazenly as beard wearers do. Grow a beard, and your laziness is front and center, for the world to behold. It’s like saying to everyone you meet  – “Yeah, I stopped shaving – you want to get into a wood chopping contest?!?”

Is there a more open display of laziness possible? You might as well wear a wife beater while duct taping a bag of Cheetos to your arm for 24/7 easy access.

This year, I grew another, separate, beard in the playoffs when the Yankees were pwning the rest of baseball. Who knows if my good luck beard, in some sort of spiritual, superstitious way, allowed the Yankees to make the rest of baseball look like Georgian lugers. We may never have the technology that allows us to measure the impact fan good luck beards have on their favorite team’s performances. All I know is that the last time I had a beard during a Yankee playoff run, it was in 2003. I shaved it right after Game 7 against the Red Sox. Coincidence? Doubtful.

All that being said, I don’t understand how my beard could NOT work out for me. In no way could a beard be construed as a negative life choice. What could happen? I look too much like Frederick Douglass, one of the great minds of our time? Or is my beard going to screw me over somehow? “This beard would be allright if it hadn’t bilked me out of half my money in that Ponzi scheme.”

The bottom line is that beards make dreams come true. Who knows? If I stick with it this time, you may hear me say these words one day: “Clean shaven I was a chump… now you’re looking at the man cast as Al Borland in the big screen adaptation of Home Improvement. It’s a dream come true. They even got Clooney’s signed on to play Tim. Nathan Lane is Jill.”


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