In the end, it's the dog year of the beard

You know how one year for a human is the same as seven years for a dog? So that makes a dog year about seven and half human weeks. Turns out the Year of the Beard was a Dog Year of the Beard, and that puppy is all gone.

I was continually amazed by the level of interest people showed in the beard, wanting me to stand there in front of them while they took it all in and pronounced whether they liked it or not, or made some comment about how it's "coming in well." As if I was producing some kind of object of art. It's just hair, people. For my part, I knew it had to go when it reached the stage where all the time I was saving not shaving had become time I was spending trimming. That, and the fact that it just starts to feel nasty after awhile.

Here's the payoff. There was general agreement that the beard made me look a lot older. No argument from me. Last night I stopped at Whole Foods after work, and my basket included a couple of bottles of wine. At the checkout this young feller carded me. "You're kidding, right?" chortled I. He mumbled back "We're supposed to card anybody who looks even close..." as I handed him my ID. He checked the DOB there and said "Well, maybe not you!" and we all had a good laugh. He said "You look really young," and I kissed him right on the lips for that, and bought drinks for the house. I think they do something with the lighting in there at WF - takes 30 years off your age.

Comments

DodgerScott said…
I'll remember to stop by WF when I'm feeling old and depressed.

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