|The blogger with misguided|
goatee, circa 1992-ish.
I will , however embrace the coolness of cultivating a hilly-billie beard... at least until my wife gently suggests that it (and the roughly fifty years a huge white beard adds to my appearance) needs to go. I am committed to the manliness of No Shave November, just not enough to ruin my marriage over. Today, after one week of abstaining from the self-mutilation that is shaving one's face, I am just slightly beyond Stage 1: The “Oh, ya I forgot to shave," or as my wife refers to it, the "You Look Like a Wreck" stage.
An occasional summer beard-wearer (and ultimately, shaver), each time my chin is shorn, I am quickly reminded that Jean Cocteau's related words are more a truism than merely just a clever quote: “There is always a period when a man with a beard shaves it off. This period does not last. He returns headlong to his beard.”