People say ‘you always want what you can’t have’. Which makes a lot of sense if you think about it; after all... you don’t need to ‘want’ what you can have.
Anyway, you know what I mean, what you don’t know yet is I am talking about beards.
I love them. From morning-after-the-night-out-before stubble to those which would turn Santa green with envy.
And as I have got older my fascination with face-manes has grown to the point I find them so intriguing it is hard to resist stroking strangers.
At university, under the guise of an art project, I even made beards for me and my female friends, calling them ‘instant equality beards’ because art gets more marks with a feminist twist on it. And the idea that seemingly small physical differences, such as being able to grow facial hair or go to the toilet standing up, resulting in such a huge difference in society, has always bewildered me. But deep and meaningful motives behind...it was arguably just my way of giving myself something nature had failed to deliver.
Don’t get me wrong, I like having my face fuzz-free, and I don’t have any aspirations to join the circus. It’s just if I could grow one, I would, and it would be magnificent.
But why am I admitting this now?
It is because, for the past few years, November has been renamed Movember in honour of the hairy and to help raise awareness for men’s health. The month sees men sacrifice their normal shaving routine and donate their faces and follicles to promote the good cause. Raising funds, as people can sponsor the moustached men, and conversation, as the cause is literally on the lips of many.
While I’ll be sad to see shaven faces when the month ends, I just hope the good work carries on long after the hair has whirled to the bottom of the washbasin.