I’m not gonna bore the literally ones of you who still read this crap with another series that I’m never gonna actually finish (See: Thirty Days of Blog). I am, however, gonna bore you with PICTURES OF MYSELF!
Y’see, I have resolved to do something this year. Not a New Year’s resolution, or anything of that nature. Something manly. Something that is 100% NOT APPROVED BY MY MOTHER. (Sorry, Mom, if you ever read this.) I’m… growing a Yeard.
“What the balls is this “Yeard” thing?” you might ask, Hypothetical Reader. I’ll tell you. It is simply a resolution. A resolution to GROW MY ALREADY GLORIOUSLY SHAGGY BEARD FOR A FULL CALENDAR YEAR, WITHOUT REDUCING ITS LENGTH.
Normally, people doing the Yeard start from scratch but refuse to touch it with any type of razor or scissors. I’m not gonna do that, but I am gonna do it with these self-imposed rules:
- The Yeard shall not have its length reduced. Ever.
- It IS permissible for scissors to be taken to the Yeard, but only for the purpose of keeping things even.
- This is because there’s a patch on the left-hand side of the beard that grows faster than the hair on most of my body, so it looks weird.
- The Yeard will periodically have beard oil, balm, or conditioner applied to it.
- Once the Yeard is long enough for me to braid without it look like I’m Captain Lou Albano, I’m gonna braid it.
- This is contingent on me gaining any vertical length to the damn thing instead of it just poofing out.
So without further ado, allow me to post a baseline photo from my Minnesota trip in January (should I write about that? I might write about that), taken in the far reaches of Alaska. Which is actually what they call the very top level of the parking garage at the Mall of America.
Come, friends. A glorious Yeard awaits. (Just wait ’til I start bitching about it once it gets hot.)