When to Prune

Hey men, what is it with the beards?  

I agree, shaving is a pain in the ass, but when did you as a gender decide to go au naturale? Maybe the full Monty beard is an answer to the more tidy and douchier goatee, which seems to have seen its popularity wane over the past few years, or maybe it’s just yet another sign that people are too lazy to groom themselves. And by people, I mean men. Sure, it’s winter, and having a little extra warmth around the chin and cheeks might be a welcome thing. They sell this thing called a balaclava, and you take it off when you get inside.

I went out to lunch the other day with my sister and my younger daughter. We went to one of those small but worth it local establishments, with a clever name and a truly awesome pimento cheese, bacon, and fried green tomato po’ boy.  The odd part about lunch there is that every man in the restaurant had a beard. They were either full natural beard or on their way to becoming face afros. The younger ones, still light on testosterone, were scraggly and sparse and a little sad, a lawn in need of reseeding in spots. I sat there while we waited for food and counted. Of the twenty or so patrons there, about fourteen of them were men, and every single one of them had a beard. Not just a mustache, not a goatee, not a soul patch, a full beard.  Even our waiter had one, more of the scraggly kind wanting to be a full lush one, but nicely balanced with the largest clunky black eyeglass frames sold this side of 1955. I wonder if the health department ever gets complaints about beard hairs in food. Should food service workers start wearing facial hair nets?

I could understand if this was just a hipster restaurant, but when we finished eating and meandered around Main Street, all we saw were beards, beards, and more beards. Beards on fat, old guys, like Santa.  Scant beards on skinny, pimply, young guys, like meth heads. Beards at the army navy story and at the fro yo shop. Everywhere I turned, beards.

They bother me more than they should, but I understand why, which I am pretty sure is half the battle. What gets me the most, well, kind of pissed about beards is the double standard. Men don’t even have to shave anymore.

Remember when men made a little effort with their appearance? They would shave and comb their hair, maybe even smooth it down with a little brylcreem. They might don a suit or at least a smoking jacket and some slippers. Dinner was an occasion that called for dressing, as was travel and going out in public for most reasons. Nowadays, men don’t bother shaving or dressing. They slip on their crocs and sweatpants, and chances are good they didn’t bother with underwear. Smelling nice isn’t as important as smelling strong, hence a full line of Axe body sprays guaranteed to make you develop hives. We all know that dousing yourself in that flammable bug repellent is not hiding the fact that you haven’t showered in three days. And by the way, there’s a Fruity Pebble in your chin fur.

Women, on the other hand, are held to a different standard. For the most part, we shave, regularly and year round. Legs. Armpits. And over the past few decades, the bikini area as well. Women are now expected to look like little girls down there, thanks to a culture that even discriminates against an aging crotch. Name one straight man who has succumbed to pressure to get a Brazilian bikini wax.

For the most part, women dress appropriately for the occasion, and majority feel the pressure to wear makeup in public. You will rarely see a woman in crocs unless it’s Walmart or Disney World, both of which follow a different set of rules. Even trampy looking women are trying to maintain a certain level of sexiness or physical attractiveness. They might not be successful, but they definitely put some effort into their look, however distasteful it may be.

It’s just not fair.

The main reason I am so bothered by beards is worse than the unfair double standard. It ‘s that I want to touch them. You know when you see a cute puppy in the park and you rush over to find a way to pet it that’s not creepy? That’s how I feel about beards. I want to touch them. I want to see if they are soft or coarse. I want to scratch under chins and examine for graying and tug to see if they are indeed real. If there is a handlebar mustache hovering somewhere above it, forget it. I am fondling that face before you can say Bob’s your uncle.

I don’t even think I like beards and mustaches, but I am definitely drawn to them, and not in a sexual way. They don’t turn me on, but they do challenge my ability to control my impulses, as well as my sensory issues.

When do we stop taking things too far? What started out as the occasional pierced ear and goatee has turned into ear gauges and Grizzly Adams. I hope you will draw the line at growing out your ear hair. While it’s cute on a koala, you, men, are no koalas. Also, get some shampoo and conditioner on that face bush of yours. And a comb. And maybe invest in a trimmer, and then try using it.

If you don’t want to be mistaken for a pussy, stop looking like one.