Return of the Beard

I’m in the process of growing a beard again. Laura hates it (and hates facial hair, as a rule – especially on me) and we had a big fight this weekend that stemmed entirely from a conversation about me growing a beard. I have clearly defined the life of the beard, confirming that I will be shaving it in early April, or perhaps right after I return from my ‘bachelor weekend’ camping trip to Shenandoah at the end of March, but that doesn’t seem to appease her. I admit having perhaps an inordinate amount of nostalgia for the days of being able to decide my own appearance without outside pressures, particularly for the bearded days at Allegany in 2002 or in Fort Collins in 2003, or even in Fredonia in 2005. Laura reminded me that she keeps her hair much longer than she otherwise would, purely because of my preference. I think it’s a stupid thing to fight about, but she has a visceral hatred for it – telling me that it makes me less attractive to her and that she’s the one who has to look at me all the time, obviously more than I look at myself.