To Beard or Not to Beard

stages of losing a beard

To Beard or Not to Beard
| Published May 22, 2014 |

By Jeanne Sigler
Thursday Review contributor

In the 30+ years I’ve known and loved my husband, he has always worn a beard. From the time I started dating, the idea of spending my life with a man with fuzz on his face never dawned on me. I suppose there were one or two beaus perhaps with mustaches, but never the full Monty, that is until I met Michael.

It was my first gaze into those piercing baby blues that really sent me. His beard I could take or leave. It was not too long before I grew to love the facial hair. Now, after three decades, I can’t imagine Michael any other way but bearded.

Still, a few years into our marriage, my curiosity got the better of me. Other than a glimpse of a handful of baby pictures he acquired from his mom, I’d never seen my husband with a naked face. Every time I suggested he shave it off, just so I can see what he looked like, Michael would find a barrage of excuses to avoid the deed, from ‘It’s too much work’ to ‘I’ll get a rash.’

So, I let it go for another little while, then after discovering a photo of him at 18, I could wait no longer. We agreed he’d take it off, then stay clean-shaven only as long as it took for the whiskers to grow back. That would give me one full day of observation before any shadow appeared, anyway. Better than nothing, I thought.

At the time of this tonsorial adventure, we were living and working as church-planting missionaries in England. The Brits never knew what to expect next from the crazy Americans, so we thought this would be fun. Pre-dating the days of cyber communication, we kept our friends and family on the other side of the ocean up to date via old-fashioned snail mail. We did not want them to miss out on this big event.

Came the day of the transformation. Armed with my red plastic camera loaded with film, I was ready to snap this play by play so everybody could share the experience. All the necessary accoutrements were handy, including shaving cream, scissors, razors, towel, and band-aids, just in case. The thrill mounted for me with each snip of the blade. “I must love you,” Michael mumbled.

With each step, the image grew clearer. Michael cut as close as possible with the scissors before applying the foam to his cheeks and upper neck. At that point he resembled a circus hobo. I urged him to get the foam spread and start scraping ASAP. “What a hassle. Now I remember why I grew one in the first place,” he muttered. I smiled and kept snapping my red instamatic.

With the final splash of water and pat of the towel, Michael emerged from the bathroom a new man. If it had not been for those blue eyes that mesmerized years before, I would not have known who this hunk was approaching me. Catching my breath, I asked him to pose for one more snapshot. Then it was time for the real test – the first clean-faced kiss. Hmmm. Different, but nice. Unfortunately, the fuzzy neck nuzzle lacked.

By the time the film was developed, Michael’s whiskers were making a come back. We sent out newsletters around the world to get a consensus. We titled it: To Beard or Not to Beard. Our friends and family were asked to cast their ballots. From California to Hong Kong, New York to Australia, responses poured in. In the end, it was a dead heat. Half said Michael should grow it back, while the other 50% voted to keep it off.

Many years have passed since my first glimpse of Michael’s nude face. Since then, he’s shaved another time or two, but it never lasts for long. I guess it just isn’t Michael without a beard. As I told him in our little flat in England way back when, I was content with his face either way. Ultimately the choice was entirely his, therefore it stayed.

Now, if he said he wanted colored contact lenses, sorry, but that would be another story.