Fungus Face

Now that I know I can. I have stopped. 

It was a good attempt but I could not see myself looking after it. 

There are not many opportunities in a lifetime to do it but having fallen down a hole and confined myself to a long recovery period I grew a beard. 

I have just now shaved it off. 

The reception of my facial hair was divided amongst family, friends and colleagues with a strong pro-lobby from the females amongst them. Not being able to stand up easily at the bathroom sink it was quite acceptable for me to suspend my personal discipline of a daily shave (excepting some weekends) for the duration of my recuperation. 

The facial hair was quite quick to establish itself and I assumed with ease that vague and thoughtful pose of staring into the distance whilst stroking both cheeks simultaneously in a palm of the hand downward stroke culminating in an almost flamboyant pinch of the neck and outward hand gesture. 

The novelty of a hairy top lip introduced a similarly musing motion although tempered by the occasional discovery of a titbit of a just eaten foodstuff in amongst the growth. 

Colour and texture were quite difficult to accept. There is a very strange sensation indeed in thoroughly swilling the face with soapy water and yet there is no feeling of moisture coming into contact with the underlying skin. 

Although the beard was part of my post-falling down that hole persona I still found that my brain had difficulties in recognising that it was indeed me staring back from the mirror. 

Although of reasonable natural hair colour to my head and the rest of my body the beard included large greyish white patches either side of my chin giving me what I felt was a distinguished appearance but could, equally, be mistaken for messy and sloppy eating habits. 

I have largely been confined to the house but in preparation for a couple of appointments at the Fracture Clinic and the occasional social trip out for a coffee and a bit of culture the beard has required some tidying up. My wife and son have become adept at the use of electric hair clippers and I have felt able to entrust such essential maintenance to them. 

Of course, trimming a beard is also a new experience for them and I have had to gauge their efforts on their facial expressions as the oscillating blade, with or without a safety cover, makes it way across my face and in very close contact with my features. There are frequent pauses and under-breath mutterances between the two of them along the lines of;

“that bit there”, 

“even that up a bit”,

 “it’s his face that is not symmetrical”, 

“no one will notice that bit there if he keeps his chin down” 

before the reassurance that I take from “That’ll have to do”. 

I have toyed with the idea of shaving the beard off a few times in the last week or two and particularly with the onset of the hotter weather. I have a fear of striking a disturbing sight of having a sun bronzed forehead but a pale and sickly white face from leaving the growth on for too long in the summer months. 

The actual decision to shave off the beard was impulsive over a matter of just a few minutes. 

It does take some effort in that the thick, matted growth has to be severely cut back before a conventional wet-razor can cope with the rest. As the short and shockingly grey hairs cascaded down my shirt front I began to feel a lightening in my mood and humour. 

I suppose if the same had been acted out on a shaggy sheep it would result in a frantically happy leg kicking cavorting about when released. 

I was in a similar frame of mind but restrained by the heavy, strapped brace on my right leg I could only drag myself upstairs to the bathroom basin and mirror for the final stage.

It had been about nine weeks since my last wet shave but the routine was very natural as it would be from forty years of almost daily practice. 

Gradually my old features resurfaced. I had forgotten about that recess under my lower lip, a couple of brown moles on my jaw line and that I had more than one chin. 

I was hoping to avoid that appearance as in a Desperate Dan’s dark stubble shadow and I was pleasantly surprised that my skin was still supple and smooth, in fact a bit revitalised from being protected from the ravages of the weather. 

At last, I was staring at a very familiar chap. 

The adventure with the beard had been fun but it was not for me. 

At the news, there was an expression of disappointment across social media.