Happy Birthday, Beard!
Happy birthday to you – Happy birthday to you – Happy biiiiiirthday, dear Beard. Happy birthday to you!
Beard, you’re ten years old today! Ten years old! You’re no longer a small child beard, but you haven’t yet gotten to the strange pre-teen stage where angst and drama could begin to burst forth at any moment. Nope, you’re comfortable with who you are and you know what you like.
You like staying pretty long, but not epic length. Just long enough for people to notice you and wonder, “Where are that hipster’s horn-rimmed glasses? And why isn’t he wearing chukkas? Maybe his anchor tattoo is covered up by his sleeve.”
You like waving in a good strong breeze. Like a noble flag. Made of hair.
You like taking a dip in the water in the summer so that the air can cool my face in the most refreshing way.
Occasionally you get a wild hair (see what I did there!) to be trimmed close to my face. Only for you to hear my wife accost me for harming you. Even though you asked for it.
We have so much fun together, Beard! Remember these classic moments?
- Losing that pie eating contest, but looking so awesome when we were done that everyone wanted our picture
- Road tripping in the Florida Keys. Just you and me and Albert, the ‘82 diesel Benz.
- Being so majestic-looking at my wedding that the photographer used our photos as his promotional materials for a while.
The list could go on. But you know that. You’re my beard!
Deciding to grow you way back when was such a simple yet life-changing event. I’d grown beards before only to tire of them. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for the responsibility, the expectations placed upon the Bearded. Finally at the age of 26, I grew you, and rather than shirk the new demands to represent the epitome of manliness and exile you to the sink in a dismal mass of shaving cream and stubble, I chose to keep you, Beard. And I’m a better man for it.
Happy tenth birthday, buddy. Here’s to the next ten.