I have mean to post on this topic for some time. Tonight is as good as any since I just spent twenty minutes obsessing over it before getting ready for work.
I love my beard.
The oddest lingering side-effect of chemotherapy is most certainly the impact it had on my body hair. On my body, the arm and leg hairs came back all blond. On the torso, a bit darker – which was close to pre-chemo.
But the facial hair. Where I once had hard, scrathy, wiry stubble I could barely stand to let grow, I now have some of the softest facial hair I have ever laid hands upon. As such, I have not so much as trimmed my beard since some time in January. Currently, I hold a touch of regret for not picking up on this sooner, seeing as how the progress seems so sluggish and prolonged. I still have that comb down to seem neatly trimmed or ragged as a psycho options for it. I like them both.
Also, as a side-note, I have slowly begun the process to train my moustache into a handle-bar. It can seem so out-of-place sometimes, regardless of how strongly I react to men that have them. Seeing as how I will be 40 next year, I think I am finally approaching the space in my life where I can wear it and have earned it.
With luck, as lay-off approaches, I will make to to get some photos and learn the whole scrapbook feature…
gryphon's hole 