Do you feel a draft?

I guess there's not much I can say. Here is the story of how I killed my beard.

This is me on Saturday. If you look closely, I have a happy, smiling beard positioned on the lower half of my face. My beard is completely unaware of what will befall it just 48 some hours later.

This is the last time I shaved, Glen Rose, TX July 16 2017. I was about to meet my beard. I wasn't sure if I would like it, but it grew on me.

 

So what happened, you ask me. Did I make a manscaping error that resulted in aborting the entire mission? No. Did my neighbors complain that it was attracting too much wildlife? Yes, but that doesn't bother me. Did I lose a bet? No. 

Whatever excuse you're thinking of, the answer is no. It was just time. As sad as I am to see my chin curtain go, it was just time to say "Happy Trails, Saddle Pals," and ride off into the sunset without it. Now, my face is very cold. I barely recognize the man in the mirror. I've lost my wireless connection to Chuck Norris.

Before

After

I sure am going to miss the way it filtered my food and the air I breathed. I sure am going to miss playing the fiddle with it (listen, if you get a chance to play the fiddle while you have a beard, I highly recommend it). My face feels like it has lost all of its swag. Speaking of, you can buy a "Real Mark Wimberley" coffee mug here because I'm really bad at advertising my own merchandise. In spite of this bittersweet moment, I have moved on. This is only the beginning. I may grow something bigger and better next time...a handlebar mustache, Burnside's Sideburns, a mullet, you never know! 

Well, I hope you really enjoy seeing my real face again. I mustache you a question, but unfortunately, I'll shave it for later.