To start on a positive: facial hair suits me. I think. It gives me that “rugged” thing. I think. And the girlfriend has reacted negatively the few times I’ve shaved. “I miss your scruff” she’ll say, touching the face. So it would seem that facial hair suits me.
I want to start on the positive because the reason I’m thinking about facial hair is my separated shoulder and next Wednesday’s surgery. I’m thinking about three months of pretty much zero use of my left arm. Recovery is going to be long and probably painful, and a lot of things are uncertain. I don’t know what I’m going to have to put on hold, or whether I need to go back to Nebraska to let my Mom and grandparents and sisters and cousins take care of me.
And when I looked at my beard trimmer and my “Fusion” razor, it seemed daunting – just another one of a thousand things I do every day that, come Thursday, are going to be impossible.
But, I realized, only temporarily. I can’t work for three months? I’ve never had more time to write. I can’t cook for three months? I’ll milk the sympathy of friends who can. I can’t shave for three months? I’m growing an Injury Beard! I live in Wicker Park, where facial hair is practically a responsibility! This Chicago winter better be a lot harsher than the last one, because I’m going into Movember and Man-uary ahead of the curve.
The beard is already started. I’m not shaving before surgery, and I’m not going to shave after. Costa Lapaseotes is growing a beard, ladies and gents. The shoulder injury will not win. Costa Lapaseotes is growing a beard. And I’m inviting you to grow one with me.
Have you or a loved one been affected by facial hair? Let me know in the comments below.