After managing to prise my eyes open with an invigorating visage wash this morning, I caught sight of my face in the bathroom mirror during the subsequent drying process.
Although an amalgamation of Shield soap and warm water had returned the use of my eyelids, it was clear that the guy looking back was not in a state of full alertness. If truth be told he probably hasn’t been for around six years; the effects of an enduringly capricious sleep pattern and challenging personal circumstances.
As I maintained my gaze in the mirror, I inanely attempted to outstare my reflection. A foolish move where I failed to hold dominion over it after I sneezed raucously two minutes into the game.
Luckily my reflection sneezed at the same time so we called it a respectable draw, and I went on to ponder whether I should shave off my increasingly untidy beard.
Of late, I’ve had aspirations of growing a thicker beard than the stubbly effort ordinarily sporting my (and coincidentally my reflections) jutting jaw.
Unfortunately, due to a small scar from a childhood accident under my jaw bone, hair follicles refuse point blank to reside there. As a result, when the stubble gets to a certain length my beard assumes an untidy, moth eaten form.
I’m pretty sure the scar is the culprit of this unsightly look, not moths. However, my theory may be misguided and my beard may bizarrely incorporate a cotton element; subsequently attracting feasting lepidopterans….. I best check that out.
Whatever the cause of this gap in my beard, I concluded it’s time now to either groom it or shave it off altogether.
I realise that wasn’t making a definitive decision, but it was pleasing I wasn’t letting the ignominy of being unable to outstare my reflection stop me from maintaining an element of positivity.
As I pen this I’m still undecided, although currently I’m coming down on the side of keeping a groomed version of facial hair. Despite my mum claiming a hirsute visage makes me look “A right scruffy bleeder!”, I think the narrow shape of my face suits a beard.
The last occasion I was clean shaven was just over a year ago, after having an old school cut throat shave at a barbers in Leeds, courtesy of my wife Karen.
It was a kind gesture from my missus. Although, after I left the barbers chair at the conclusion of the shave, she started behaving erratically.
Walking down Briggate, Karen became highly flustered. She just kept muttering continuously to herself “One job! The barber had one flaming job!” ………. I’m not sure what was troubling her, but it took her days to get over it.
While I was at the barbers, I enquired how much it would be to undertake hair removal on my back. However, the cost was prohibitive so I didn’t pursue that particular grooming strategy. My back must require more TLC than I thought as the quote included a price for scaffolding!
Anyway, while I’ve been writing this narrative, I’ve come to a definitive decision how to proceed with this conundrum……. I’m going to have the house cleared of bloody moths!
