It was inevitable, I suppose. Shaky hands combined with a propensity towards perfectionism (nit-picking), with a dash of old equipment mixed in for flavor results in a fairly short life span for any particular style of facial hair on yours truly. What really bums me out is that this particular incarnation of beard had lasted a good long while; for four months, it and I shared a symbiotic relationship of epicness. I gave it a home on a face that can only be described as astonishingly handsome (sup ladies? *wink*), and in exchange, the beard gave me warmth, style, and the occasional place to store bits of my lunch when I wanted to save some for later.
And now it's dead. And all I have left is the butchered remnants of its once glorious body. I shall name it "goatee."
Ever since I began to grow real facial hair (not to be confused with the weedy growth one experiences on the onset of puberty and during high school) I've had to deal with the woes of shaving. Nearly every man does, but this is particularly tough for black men. We don't have the freedom to just take a razor, some shaving gel, and slice the growth off like the cancer it is. No, we are plagued with hair that takes a gleeful, malicious delight in confounding us at every turn.
You see, the hair we black folks have is extra coarse (nappy as fuck). This is obvious to anyone who has seen or felt our hair; "velcro" and other, less flattering names come to mind. This extends to our facial hair, and causes problems when one tries to shave it. The hair likes to curl up as it grows. And when I try to use a razor, it likes to curl up UNDER THE SKIN. This results in a special kind of Hell. A Hell called Razor Bumps.
Black men aren't the only ones who are afflicted with this nightmare, of course. But when we get them, we get them hard. If our faces were a pair of testicles, the razor bumps would be size 15, steel-toed boots worn by Olympic soccer players. Soccer players who are desperate to get a goal, or whatever the hell it is soccer players try to do.
As you can imagine, this makes me VERY nervous. The horror pictured above can easily be me if I'm not careful. This is one of, nay, THE reason I grow a beard. A beard means I can walk around not looking like a hideous, malformed troll. Since I wouldn't be comfortable living under a bridge, I would like to avoid looking like a troll.
And now I'm stuck with my new b.f.f. Goatee.
Goatee doesn't possess the awesome shielding power that beard did. With beard, my facial grooming came down to five minutes of trimming. Goatee exposes more of my incredible good looks to the elements, which I suppose is a good thing for all you ladies out there (again with the *wink*). But also means I have to actually *shave*, which as you now know is a risky endeavor. Just in case I didn't get my point across, look at this:
Gross, isn't it?!
There are a few options for the black man who doesn't want facial hair. There are products like Nair that dissolves your hair into an acidic soup that sloshes off your face. There's also the use of electric razors. The first option isn't an option for me; my skin is sensitive to nair-like products, something I discovered the hard way. *shudder*
The electric razor works *for a time*, but sooner or later, the ingrown hair will come.
"But Darren, you dashing rogue, why not just let it grow back into a beard and stop this pointless bitching?"
Well, that's a good question, nameless asshole. The long and short of it is that it will take weeks for it to grow back to it's full splendor, and I don't have the time. I have a wedding to attend, and I must look my best. I can't show up looking like a hobo, now can I?
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