After seven months of zero maintenance of my hair and beard, it is time to change it up. i have chosen to cut my hair and shave. decisions like these should not always be made haphazardly, but sometimes that is exactly what is necessary.
I consider an experience like this to be one deeply rooted in nature. molting is a process shared by many species of the universe. to move forward, you must leave something behind.
The hardest part is the first cut because, after that, there is no turning back. the clippers are on, buzzing in my hand as i take a final look in the mirror at the face i had grown accustomed to seeing over the course of 28 weeks. with a steady hand, i make the first swipe back down the center of my head. woah boy. the next 90 seconds are a mental blur. wavy locks cascading gently to the floor as i work the clippers across my head, as i reminisce about the experiences i have had with them. the mane which once protected me against the elements of a harsh chicago winter is now slowly being cut down by an oster. remnants falling of a beard once fondled by seedy women and complimented on by random weirdos. a mop of hair encircles my bare feet as i check for missed spots in a three part mirror. hot water runs from the bathroom faucet while i prepare shaving soap in a mug. using a shaving brush, i apply the creamy lather to a stubbly face. the bristles feel unfamiliar to me. it has been some time since i have had a good shave. carefully navigating, i slowly drag the razor across sensitive areas. the corners of my lips. across the jawline. the upper lip. it is pertinent to rinse the razor often in the pool of hot water slurry at the bottom of the sink. the tink-tink of the razor against the porcelain has replaced a low whirring sound previously made by the oster clippers. i inspect all areas, ensuring i have not missed a spot. the sink can be drained and the cold water can begin running. eyes closed i cup water with my hands and bring it to my face, rinsing off any remaining lather. a dollop of after shave lotion is placed into my hands and rubbed into my hairless face to sooth the obligatory burn. a quick look in the mirror completes the experience. ready to start a cycle all over again, i only slightly have the thought in the back of my mind,
“my god…what have i done?”
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did you consider donating your beard hair to Locks of Love?
ok,sorry. thats in poor taste …and very gross