Since I’ve been alive I’ve never seen my dad with a clean-shaved face. Besides pictures of him as a kid, my only interactions with my dad have involved him having some sort of facial hair. Mostly it’s been his trademark stache, but he’s also changed it up with the full beard, the goatee and even the fu-man-chu. But never clean shaven. Ever. I think I’ve even offered him a substantial amount of money (that I didn’t have) to get him to break out the razor and take it all off. It didn’t work.
When Elle told me the other night that she wanted me to shave my beard, I figured I’d give her the satisfaction I never got from my dad. A non-scruffy face. The more I thought about it, I don’t think I’ve ever completely shaved with a razor since they’ve been born. 1-Because it sucks to maintain. One day later and you already look scruffy. Who wants to keep up with that? B- A scruffy beard is so much easier. And III- According to Tracey, it gives my otherwise pale face some color. But, since Elle asked, I did it.
Her reaction wasn’t quite what I expected. But, just like Elle, she told me what she’s thinking. It didn’t hurt my feelings or anything, I just thought it was funny to see the reaction on her face. It was like I wasn’t daddy anymore and it wasn’t familiar. She automatically wanted me to grow it back, which I’m sure I will, soon enough. I guess it’d be the same if my dad shaved his mustache off. I wouldn’t know who he was. It doesn’t define him, but it’s a big part of his “look” which I can appreciate and I find comforting.
I’ll still pay him some serious cash to shave it off though.