Monday 15 May 2017

Garibaldi had time on his hands

Beards are everywhere. 

Obviously, I exclude amongst the fairer sex but in just about every avenue of life the beard is prominent. It may just be the case that facial hair is in the mainstream but whether it is to be a strong trend or just a brief fashion statement is yet to be seen.

The resurgence in beards and moustaches, in my perception, stems from recent charitable campaigns, the best known being "Movember" which certainly drew attention to the subjects of prostate cancer, testicular cancer and male suicide.

The actual circumstances to grow a beard are quite limited beyond doing it to raise funds for worthy causes. It takes a good couple of weeks to establish facial hair of any credibility ie beyond a joke which narrows down the opportunities to dedicate such time, in my opinion, to one or more of the following:

A) You are on holiday and if used to shaving daily for the rest of the working year then why not take a break?
B) Your life has been disrupted by a major personal or other crisis which means you cannot face the world
C) There is an urgent need to develop a disguise
D) You are doing it for a bet or out of stubbornness
E) Someone has cast aspersions on your maturity and a beard is a perfect response to this
F) On a similar theme to E) you are fed up of being challenged for proof of age at the Off Licence.
G) A particular sporting or role model figure looks really good in a beard so you feel you should follow suit
H) An individual of the opposite sex that you fancy made you think that you would look really good with facial hair beyond a designer stubble
I) Everyone else has one.

All of the above will ring familiar with those toying with the idea of a beard.

In my case, I am into week five of my own face fungus and the reason?

Well, as many of you know I fell down a hole and required leg surgery which finds me in the post-operative stage in a fixed leg brace and a strict no weight bearing recovery.  Although I might be able to do so I have convinced myself that I cannot attempt to shave without the strong possibility of falling out or over my walking frame in the bathroom.

That will sound feeble but as I am determined not to do anything to prolong my recuperation it is, above all, sensible.

So, I have embarked on the adventure that is the growing of full facial hair.

It takes some courage in the first few days and not a few glances from loved ones which suggest concerns over state of mind, potential depression and a complete withdrawal of any measure of personal hygiene.

I am being honest in stating that prior to my current commitment my longest interval between clean shaving was from a Friday to a Monday morning. I actually enjoy the discipline and results of a shave and this has for most of my life been an essential part of my daily routine whether on a working day or in my free time.

Furthermore I am reasonably active for a 50 plus male and can think of nothing worse than sweating through fuzz or trying to fasten a cycling helmet over stubble.

I have on my adventure passed through that difficult intitial straggly stage of growth.

I was fearful at first that there would be a predominant ginger hue as the Viking genes from my paternal side are never far below the surface where bodily hair is concerned. This Celtic colouration did not transpire but on either side of my chin I have developed white streaks very reminiscent of Cruella daVille or someone who has not been informed that after eating rice pudding most of it still resides in the hair.

There is a period over a few days, about two weeks in, where beard observers hesitate and cross over the road in an attempt to avoid what they expect as a forthcoming request for change for a cup of tea or directions to the nearest hostel.

At a hospital appointment about three weeks on I felt stares of pity and a searching gaze around me for someone who looked like a Carer. A few young children, in obvious pain with a broken limb to be re-set and encased in plaster, were hustled away from me by parents or guardians to another part of the waiting room. Perhaps if I had mastered a bad tempered growl or under-breath muttering I could have speeded up my progress by causing other queueing patients to excuse themselves from the line.

By week four I was actually looking at options to style my facial growth. One reference was to a chart of 33 different styles in natural order from fresh faced to something called a Bandholz (full scary criminalised) and with many variations in between.

Against my curiosity and speculation however has been the reception for my effort of a beard from friends, family members and colleagues. In the latter my forwarding of a mugshot type photo to the office e mail resulted in a group action for its swift removal. That sort of reaction cannot be ignored.
At the time of writing only my wife and daughters seem to like the thing.

As for my own feelings about it, well, they are mixed.

Being accustomed to a clean shaven reflection in the mirror my shaggy, fugitive appearance is difficult to process.

There is a strange sensation when washing my face in that no water seems to be able to percolate through to cause a sensation on the surface of my skin. Above all, maintaining a beard takes a lot of work from trimming and styling and although my current predicament of poor mobility allows for diarising a bit of grooming I do not think that this could be sustained when I return to full time work.

I am therefore planning to shave it off…….all of it....sometime soon….when I can balance on one leg at the sink……but definitely before the hot seasonal weather as if it was left until the autumn I expect that I will have a really odd combination of suntanned skin around the pale, sickly outline of a face newly exposed to the atmosphere.

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