My appreciation of big beards is binary. When I bustle about baby-faced, I’m brought back to the beard with a bit of bereavement. Alliteration aside, I’m always tantalized with the idea of having a huge, fist-length beard.
I feel like it would give me a feeling of power, of mystery and authority.
But every time I go extended periods without shaving, no matter how meticulously I’m keeping my beard, I always think I’m making a big mistake. That I will become a weirdo, unattractive, a try-hard.
My beard is nearing the longest I’ve ever had it, and I’m not sure how I want to proceed.