The Beard

Having absorbed enough outdoorsman culture from the week I spent in Seattle in January to start wearing a backpack instead of my "man purse," I was surely primed before my recent trip to Vail to easily absorb its mountainous stoner backcountry culture. After all was said and done, and two weeks have passed, I've got myself a beard. I've played with the beard idea before: once in freshman year of college, though it didn't really fill in well, and it was borne out of pure laziness rather than diluted laziness; and in sophomore year I donned the chinstrap beard after a messy ending to a strained relationship. Fortunately, my Wes Borland-chinstrap days only lasted a month or so--guys loved it, chicks not so much.


So begins a new era of beardery, one which will likely end before the weekend is up. For starters, I feel like I'm constantly surrounded by the specter of the early 80's. I find myself constantly distracted by REO Speedwagon and Jethro Tull songs, and as great as that sounds, I now know why those bands aren't around anymore. And additionally, my Moroccan boyfriend, Michael, hasn't been too hot on the beard, saying that "it doesn't not look good, you just look better without it" and "it makes you look...older." Nevertheless, I hope my bearding activities won't go unheralded by those at Man Beard Blog.


For the record, here's a picture I took with my phone's camera. I'm not sure why I look so surprised in this picture.