I was cursed. Yes indeed, when my Pap and Mum got together, they created a mess. My Dad somehow couldn't grow a beard. He tried. Looked like hell. I must have gotten it from Mom.
Women think they are "cursed" with their "monthly" problems...HAH!
Anyway, when I was about 13 or so, it began. This stuff started sprouting on my face and still hasn't stopped after all these years. I know all about shaving. Nicks, cuts, razor rash, little squares of toilet paper that look like miniature Japanese flags....you name it. About the only thing I have NEVER tried was a "styptic pencil". For some reason I never wanted anything on my face with the name "styptic" on it...
I grew up to hate shaving....no that's not right....I LOATHE SHAVING!
But...I was stuck with it.
When I was about 16, and feeling very manly, I let it grow out for a day or so, then "trimmed" my whiskers to a shape that suggested a beard. I come in and set down to the dinner table. My dad never looked up. He just said, "You don't eat a bite 'till that shit is OFF your face." Ah Well.......
July 1971, I fly down to San Diego for boot camp. It seems these guys were FANATICS about shaving! They had me on a shaver program that involved shaving TWICE a day! Just when I thought I knew all about razor rash, I found I had some more to learn.
One morning out at parade, our little Chinese APO comes along and he thinks he is so cool...He squints at my still burning face and then he pulls out a razor from his pocket. It seems he didn't think I did a sufficient job that morning...So he wants to dry shave me. I just whisper to him, "If you so much as TOUCH ME with that razor, I'm gonna KICK-YOUR-ASS!" He never did, so I never had to.
After Boot, I went to Molder A school. Under Admiral Zumwalt's plans, we could grow a beard, PROVIDED we could show we had the "hair" to do it. NO SWEAT! I asked permission to grow one. They said, "OK, you got ten days to prove you got enough for a beard".
After THREE DAYS, it was a "go" for the beard attempt. It came in nice and thick. Except for the little bare spot under my chin from where I got burned as a baby, it was all over. Trimming and grooming, getting past the "itch like hell" at the two week point, it was looking good. I found a whole world of grooming aids just for beards and moustaches. Waxes, combs, scissors, colorings, a whole new world was open to me now.
After A school, I found myself in the hot, steamy world of Vietnam and the beard was just to much to bear. One night, I shaved it all off. Next morning, J.T. Holman looks me over and says, "Damn, Boy, Your UGLY! You best GROW THAT BEARD BACK RIGHT NOW!" Funny.
So, I shaved again each day and went through the hell of razor rash, etc. One night, I had just got out of the shower and was shaving at the sink. This PUNK shows up next to me. He is a fair haired, fair skinned little popinjay. He gets up to the mirror real close, examines his CHIN real close, sees a few LITTLE wispy hairs trying to be real hairs.....He says, and I quote, "DAMN, I have a heavy beard!" A vision of him lying on the deck in a pool of blood passed before my eyes.
I started to grow another beard. Charlie Whiteside was all over me about getting closer to my razor. I said I was growing a beard, and he gave me the "OK, you have ten days" line. After THREE DAYS, he shut up.
It was a good one! It came in thick and nice, I trimmed and shaped it and was the envy of a lot of other guys who also hated shaving. Then we hit the Philippines. I saw this Air Force guy with a handle bar moustache THREE FEET WIDE! I swear, he had to go through a door sideways. HUH! Damn SHOWOFF!
A Captain's Inspection was coming. Had to be all neat and tidy for that. The night before, I shampooed it, combed and trimmed, made sure all the cooties were out. Santa Claus, you haven't got a thing on ME!
I go up to my spot to stand while the ol' man looks me over. Dress Whites, nice day. This BT hole snipe shows up and looks at me. He has a ratty looking beard that suggested he may have mange or some vitamin deficiency. It was one of those "One Hair Per Inch" beards. His face could still get a tan.
He says, "I'll stand next to you and show off my beard, too." I thought, "Yeah, Right."
The Skipper come along. He gets in front of me, looks me over, then looks at the guy next to me, then back to me and he says, "Nice beard, son." Then he looks back at the other guy....Then he says, to the other guy, "Son, I want you to go down and shave that shit off, then I want to see you in my cabin tomorrow morning so I can be sure you did a proper job."
I come home on leave and my little niece sits in my lap. She says, "I'm gonna pull your beard." I say you bett-(er NOT!)" She reaches up and YANKS a big handful of hair out and tears welled up in my eyes. She never got in my lap after that, not that I didn't love her.
I grow a beard every so often now. The wife doesn't seem to mind. I save a few bucks on foam and blades, and use up some of my supplies of moustache wax and such. Most people who know me rarely see me without a few days growth on my face. It is getting more grey and white in spots, but it sure hasn't slowed down in its growing.
NOT ONE DAMN BIT!
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