Shaving Day

One of the great things about running an internet business from home, or what my wife refers to as “being unemployed”, is the lighter emphasis on personal appearance. Unlike the general workforce that has to meet expected dress criteria, the at-home worker doesn’t need to worry about whether his khaki’s are business enough or if her selection of shoes is too casual.

The biggest benefit for this writer is not having to shave daily. I hate shaving. It’s like the daily version of mowing the lawn without the winter break. It’s a losing battle – you shave – it comes back – you shave again. Chalk one up for the body’s DNA – it’s been producing hair on man’s face since time began and it doesn’t intend to stop, Norelco be damned.

Well, this morning was Shaving Day – I had let the stubble transition to beard about a week back and then just figured, screw it, let it grow.

There’s a point when attractive stubble crosses the line into “homeless chic” and I had blown past that designation over the weekend. Had I left the house today I most likely would have been fingered as Dan Haggerty or post-arrest Nick Nolte. The Unabomber would have turned himself in for treatment had he seen what I saw in the mirror this morning. Heck, if they did an open casting call for “The Ongoing Adventures of Chewbacca and Family”, I would have been a shoe-in for Uncle Kenny.

I guess I have subtly made the point that it was time to shave.

A job like this is well beyond the scope of my standard electric shaver, so armed with the finest plastic razors that 29 cents can buy, I set out to get the job done.

Anytime I undertake this mission, opportunities present themselves that I would never consider unless I had razor in hand and a face full of shaving cream.

After shaving off the growth below my eighties-style sideburns (influenced by childhood favorites Huey Lewis, Clint Eastwood, and The Blues Brothers – some men just don’t grow up), I briefly considered leaving much of the beard and going with the now-common goatee. The goatee portrays its wearer in a light that is rugged, tough, and hip – I couldn’t pull this off in any of the potentially infinite alternate realities. I spend my time listening to middle-of-the-road music and solving sudoku puzzles when I’m not hunched over my laptop. The goatee was soon hacked-off with the quickly dulling 29-cent blade.

The real temptation came after clearing the chin area – there I was, a full-blown mustache adorning the center of my mug. Something inside me wanted to see the glass as half-full – maybe I could pull this off. One quick look at my 15 month old, who was taking in this rare event like it was a Cubs World Series victory, set things straight instantly. She looked at mustachioed Daddy and laughed.

The mustache came off, the aftershave went on, and the above events are scheduled to repeat themselves in about two weeks, likely with the same results.


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