I've Shaved Years Off of My Life

So a few weeks ago I shaved off the fabulous "Castro" beard. It took years away from my appearance. However it took me a week to recognize myself in the mirror. I even experienced what an amputee refers to as "ghost limb," but with a beard. Which I now call "ghost beard." It's Latin terminology for "fool who shaved off a great fucking beard." I also instantly realized that I had made a horrible mistake.
I have two reasons why I shaved my beard. The first was because I kept getting food stuck in it and I wouldn't know it until I looked into a mirror. I could be walking around with it all day and not realize it. The second was that I wanted to look professional for a presentation I'm giving Thursday. In retrospect I can see that the second one was a pretty weak reason. I could have looked just fine if I had trimmed it up a bit. But nooooooooooo, I went and hacked the whole damn thing off. I wish now I had done it with a dull blade just to give myself a physical indication of just how dumb I was to be shaving it in the first place.
So now I'm in the process of growing it back. It really didn't seem like it took that long to grow it out before, but I think my whiskers just don't trust me anymore. It's like they're thinking that once they get to a good long length where they can feel the wind blowing, even in a gentle breeze, I'm just going to chop them down to little stubs. Not that I blame them. This isn't the first time that I've done it. But it was the first time that the beard looked real good. Scoff if you must, but it's true. That was the bitchin'-est beard that ever was.

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