I love beards. I think they are crazy sexy cool. All of the boys in my family have beards:
Look at the bevy of bearded men: my dashing father, my brother-in-law, and both of my brothers. My little bro looks fairly clean-shaven in this photo, but here’s a more recent shot of him:
Isn’t he adorable? Seriously. This boy got all of the very best genes in our family–olive skin, beautiful thick, curly dark hair, chocolate brown eyes and eyelashes that go on for miles. Plus he’s tall. And thin.
But I digress.
Mr. Phish does not share my fondness for facial hair.
I begged and bribed him to participate in Movember.
He said no.
I pleaded and cajoled and promised all kinds of things if he would do Decembeard.
He said no.
Then, randomly, today, he decided to stop shaving. So I immediately declared it March Beardness. Oh baby!!
And, for the record, I think he looks muy caliente with the mini-beard. So I fully expect the full beard will make it damn near impossible for me to keep my hands off of him.
Although I am staunchly pro-beard, I leave you with this sobering reminder of what happens when beards go bad:
This is my brother-in-law. His beard has crossed over to the dark side. I think he’s hiding snacks in there. Or his wallet.