So much for that beard

That didn’t last long.

It was only three weeks ago that I was bragging about my yeard (a beard grown for a year) and now, here I am, my face smooth as a baby’s butt (but not as fresh smelling.) The response from people has come in three:

Couldn’t care less;

Hate that I no longer have the yeard, or;

“That thing made you look like a flabby Viking with an iron deficiency.”

At the end of the day, I got tired of grooming the darn thing every morning. You couldn’t tell by looking at me when I had it, but I spent a good 20-minutes each morning blow drying, combing, buttering, oiling and balming the beard just to make it look like the hair was somewhat kempt (but looking like Captain Caveman after a week-long bender.) When the temperatures hit the 90’s this past Friday, I had had enough and out came the clippers. First it was a snip here, a sheer there, but before long I went from having mutton chops, to a Fu Manchu, to Charlie Chaplin’s mustache (which also resembles a less popular guy’s tooth-brushed stash.) In the end, I trimmed everything down to the white wisps currently left on my chin.

Chatting with my beard Guru, Scott Meneely, at the car show Saturday made me miss my beard (mostly because his is how a beard should look, not like the business-end of a 50-year-old, worn out broom like yours truly.) We talked for a good five minutes on beard related topics and I felt like that one guy at the sports bar who doesn’t know what ERA stands for. There I stood, barefaced, beardless, and missing my whiskers.

Have faith, those that miss the straggly, hermit-looking Hebert. The next yeard is only 365 days away.

Thanks for reading, and aloha.