Evey time I grow my beard out, women stop swooning and start curling their lips up in disgust.

But I don’t care because I’ve already got a wife…and a kid…and a relatively clean home. Okay, my home’s not clean but the rest is great on a plate.

The truth about the beard goes so far beyond fashion or trying to impress someone that it’s hard to explain. Growing up in South Central Illinois, most of the male adults in my life had beards at some point during the year. When it snows on the plains of the Midwest, the males just seemed to grow beards. That’s how it is.

And when the bitter winds start biting, some kind of primal animal wakes up inside me and screams for facial hair. I used to have a fire red beard, peppered with dark hairs which have now started to go gray (see above picture).

If you’re wondering if I have some kind of hang-up about going grey at the age of 30, I don’t. I hope that I go completely white by the time I’m 50.

So, no; I’m not the wolfman but that doesn’t mean I can’t grow facial hair. Don’t worry ladies–the goatee will be back soon enough. But for now, I’m going for the Mervin Olson look…

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