from: Anabaric on Today at 10:28:49 am
I always wanted to grow a beard, but can't get it bushy enough to look more than a bad stubble, if I leave it long enough do you think it will grow, or is there some cream I can rub in to help it?
Greetings Anabaric, brother!
By no means am I and expert on beards. I can only pass on advice and tips I have gained from my own experience.
Will you let me tell you the story of my beard? Perhaps you can learn something from it?
“My Beard Experience”
An Essay By Eugene Spencer, Rodents of Unusual Size
Dedicated to “Anabaric”, who was kind enough to give me the original idea for this essay.
==========
It was around the age of sixteen when I first attempted to grow facial hair. Many of my friends were able to grow full beards – even some of the females - and I wanted to be just like them.
Alas, without dwelling too much on my early attempts too much, it was a disaster. A failure. My facial hair came through patchy . I had only been shaving for a year or so. But basically I just looked like a 16 year old trying to grow a beard.
Bad times.
After a while I came to a compromise. The only decent facial hair I could grow was my sideburns. And man, I grew them like a mother :censored: er!
Now, a 16/17 year old with giant sideburns might seem a little daft. But Christ on a bike... the pu55y I got was phenomenal! Women like lamb chops and I'm living proof of that. Something about sideburns tickling their thighs or something. I don’t know.
Two years later.
I was 18 and unfortunately the pu55y had all dried up if you pardon the expression. I no longer felt the need to have sideburns. They were awesome and all... but it was time to move on. So I had them chopped and went back to being baby-faced.
Until I was 21.
During this period I watched a lot of 24. You know, the critically-acclaimed, award-winning show starring Kiefer Sutherland? Now, you can spend all day debating wither 24 is a good show or not. I personally like it. It's turn-off-brain TV and it’s not fukkin Judge Judy. Ya know? But it was during this time that I had an actual man crush. I'm not gay but I’m also not afraid to admit that I was in love with a man. Tony Almeida. Do you know the character I'm talking about, brother?
http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:HwqMD7JnewlbaM:http://www.nerdles.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/Tony_Almeida-1.jpg&t=1
I didn't love him because he's a good looking guy. Or because he had firm buttocks. I loved him for his beard. I'm not afraid to admit that at all. That tiny wee beard was awesome and I wanted one. I wanted to be Tony Almeida!
Now. You may remember that my previous attempts at growing a beard when I was sixteen didn't really work out. The beard grew in patchy. But that was a good few years ago and to be honest, this beard is tiny. It's like the smallest beard you can have. How can you go wrong?
So I set about growing this thing.
Best.
Decision.
EVAR.
As you can imagine, it's not really that difficult to grow. It's not even that difficult to maintain either. But the crucial part is, it **WAS NOT** maintenance-free. It **did** require the occasional trim. Looking back now, the grooming skills I developed during this period were absolutely vital to future beard development. You learn how far you can push trimming. You learn how to handle a razor. But most of all, you learn how to handle the single most difficult element of beard growing: your friends asking you “ARE YOU GROWING A BEARD LOL?”
Man. The first time that happened to me, I crumpled like a hooker punched in the kidneys. I didn’t know what to say. Why was I embarrassed? DOESN’T A MAN HAVE A RIGHT TO GROW A BEARD?
Fukkin right I do. And I told them that. They laughed it off and cracked a few jokes. “To hell with them!”, I thought. I continued to experiment with my facial hair.
I made the small beard slightly longer, so it came down over my chin. I grew even more on my chin and it became more goatee-like, just without the moustache. Do you know what I mean? I started to lengthen my sideburns again. All in all, I had a great time playing about with my facial hair.
Good times.
I did this on and off for a few years. I’d shave it off completely and then re-grow it. But now I was an established beard-grower among my peers and it wasn’t difficult to “take it to the next level”.
I did a test-run. I left all my facial hair to grow for two weeks to see what I looked like.
DISASTER!
I didn’t like it! I just looked scruffy. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s looking like a tramp. So I shaved it all off and that was that.
Until last year. I consider 2009AD the “year of bearded enlightenment”.
In April I left my job to work from home. As I didn’t have to look presentable for any occasion ever, I didn’t bother shaving. And the strangest thing happened. The two weeks of non-shaving passed before I knew it. By the end of week three, I began to notice that it was starting to “fill out”. The patchiness was… gone. This was great! By the end of week 5 I was ecstatic! I had a full beard and I could do anything I wanted with it. A blank canvas! Absolutely phenomenal!
It dawned on me that all these years I had been missing the vital ingredient. This ingredient is what air is to our lungs, what water is to a fish, what sunlight is to a flower. This ingredient is critical to beard growing. It is of course… patience.
You see, brother, beard growing takes a long time. It can’t be done over night. It is something you need to commit to. But once you’re up and running, it’s so easy going. You must have patience. Wait six weeks. It doesn’t matter how daft you think you look. It will work out in the end.
Anyway. I grew my facial hair for six weeks. It became wild and unkempt. But I didn’t care. I knew after six weeks I would be able to sculpt this magnificent mound of facial hair into anything I wanted.
The day of reckoning came. I lay out my electric razor, my Gillette Mach 3 razor in the bathroom.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The man I used to know was behind that beard. The old me. The man without patience. The unenlightened man.
I picked up the electric razor and turned it on. The hum became hypnotic as I stared into the mirror. I knew I would have to tackle this like a real man. It was unknown territory but really, that’s what life is all about.
I raised my chin and slowly lifted the razor up towards my neck. I paused for a second.
“Am I ready for this?” I thought. “Am I ready to become a well-groomed bearded man?”
Without a second thought, the razor was thrust onto my hairy neck. I only needed to shave my neck – my chin or cheeks must remain as they are. It came so naturally. With every stroke of the razor, I felt the confidence surge inside of me. Whiskers fell to the ground like a spring blossom. I felt free. It was if I was an African Impala running wild through the Serengeti.
Suddenly, my razor began to glow!
“What is this???” I thought. I was a bit freaked out, naturally. I found myself unable to put the razor down. As if some force was moving my hand for me. My movements became completely involuntary.
The razor’s hum and glow became more and more intense until I could no longer see my beard in the mirror. I tried to turn away from the mirror and close my eyes to shield them from the intense light, but it was no use. Something was forcing me to stare directly in to the mirror. The hum of the razor had also grown in intensity – it sounded like a rocket at lift-off.
Although I couldn’t see the razor any longer, I knew I was still shaving. I could feel each stroke on my neck.
“OH GOD… WHAT… IS HAPPENINGTO ME???” I screamed at the top of my voice – barely audible over the intense chinook-like sound of the razor.
There was a sudden, hyper-intense flash of light and then silence. Everywhere I looked was intense, bright white light. Almost too white. Pitch lightness. I felt weightlessness. There was no floor, no ceiling.
“HELLO?”
Nothing.
Squinting my eyes, I notice some of the white began to darken and change colour. As if the white was materialising into something. It was a face! An old, weathered, bearded face.
“Eugene”, it said in a deep booming voice.
“Eugene, I am God. You have reached the point of no return. From this day forth, you will forever have a beard. You will die and old man, with a full beard. I have been watching you for many years now. There is no doubt in my mind that you are The One”.
“The One?”
“Yes. I am going to give you a very important task. It requires this…”.
Before me materialises a small, black comb.
“What is this?”
“Eugene, this is a specific comb for your beard. You must take it and use it. At every opportunity you must tell as many people as possible about your beard and the specific comb you have for it. With luck, you will bring about a bearded revolution. Every man will have beard”
“But, but I’m not ready!” I exclaimed. “I’ve only just grown my first proper beard!”
“Your mind is not polluted by doubt and greed, son. Alas, I must leave now. But one last thing. If a man named “Anabaric” were to ever cross your path, make sure you dispense sound advice unto him. For he is more important than you will ever know”.
In an instant, the light turned to darkness.
BZZZZ BZZZZ BZZZZ BZZZZ.
My alarm.
I open my eyes. “Man! What a weird dream”. I stretch look over to the alarm clock. And there, beside the clock is a…
Small.
Black.
Comb.
From that day forward I knew I was a true bearded man. A soldier of the tash with a specific comb for my beard.
And now I find you, Anabaric, on these forums. I knew this day would come. And as I promised god, I must give you some advice.
I hope this story has dispensed some of my knowledge. I hope you find it useful and I wish you the best of luck with your beard growing. Never despair. Always look into the light, brother. One day you will have an awesome beard.
And Anabaric. Get a specific comb for your beard. You’ll never regret it, brother.
PS: I rub butter into my beard to pad it out a bit.
PPS: I know I said in an earlier post that my specific comb for my beard was given to me by a man I used to work with. And I seem to have contradicted myself in this post. I will leave it up to you guys to decide which story is closer to the truth.
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