A Shaggy Dog Tail

When I was young, and didn’t realize what my feelings actually meant, I really wanted facial hair like my grandpa and my dad. They kept themselves clean-shaven, but they obtained a 5 o’clock shadow in a couple of hours after shaving. My grandpa would rub his “whiskers” on my face and I would giggle. So, I wanted whiskers too. I look back on that thought and I cringe. I still think fondly of my grandpas whisker snuggles, but I have this special hate with my facial hair, as you can imagine.


I’ve used it in the past, to deflect any thought of my true nature from those around me, especially in the military. (mustache, not a beard) But I hardly had to shave anyway, I would shave once a month and still look clean shaven. When I was around 30 things changed, now I can’t go two days without having to shave again, the stubble, the ugh. I don’t mind my legs, they stay pretty good for about 3 or 4 days, I would like it to be longer but don’t we all. It’s my facial hair that won’t cooperate.

In my 20’s I could dress up and go out without makeup and while staying a good distance away from people manage not to get clocked. I couldn’t even think of that now. Granted, I’ve a lot more weight now than I had then, but I was 160 lbs and 6 ft tall, I could pull off a lot more back then. I was overly tall for a girl, but I normally wore flats so I didn’t tower above everyone. My shoulders aren’t broad, so I could wear almost anything I could get. I never got the courage to get close enough to other people to give them the chance to read me, but I would not even contemplate it now. I would have to cake on enough makeup to clog a sink to hide the stubble that sprouts so damn quickly. 

I will shave, and then the next day almost cry when I see that all that work didn’t even last 24 hours. I know there are ways to get rid of facial hair, but I live in a small town so most of those ways are not viable. it’s the daily razor and raw skin for me. 

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