A Soliloquy On Facial Hair

I am my father’s son.  I’ve heard it all my life, “You look just like your father.”  There has never been any denying that.  So, when I was 8 or 9 years old and my father had grown out a mustache, the image stuck with me.  A few years later when he had grown out a beard for a brief period of time, I recorded every detail to memory.  These were images of my future should I opt for facial hair; thus, they were important images for a child entering adolescence and eventual adulthood.  Images that let me know that I did not want facial hair.

I won’t go into the various analysis I made regarding the growing of hair on my face versus my various features, but we will say it is enough to know that it was not something I liked the look of on my person.  Or rather the potential look of.  And for forty years I had kept myself mostly clean shaven, with never a whisker making it past a day or two.  That is until a trip to Europe kept me unshaven for an extended period.

I had arrived in Stockholm SE by way of Amsterdam NL, on what was to be a two-month long trip across various European countries, only to discover that my bags had decided to remain in Amsterdam.  I can only imagine the discussion the various pieces of my luggage had in order to come to the decision to jump ship on a two-hour layover; I, however, cannot imagine that they did not know the second to last leg of the trip was two weeks in Amsterdam.  Surely, they understood that there was plenty to do and see in the beautiful city of Stockholm and that Amsterdam could wait?  Apparently not, for it took an entire week for my clothing and toiletries to arrive and I am convinced to this day that my possessions, to the one, had squinty red eyes upon their arrival in Stockholm.

But I digress.  Not wanting to purchase all new items, during the week of the missing luggage I made do with clothing borrowed from friends and the toiletries available from the hotel front desk.  Unfortunately for me the hotel did not have a razor or shaving cream available, thus I went the week without shaving.  When my luggage finally arrived in Stockholm, and for reasons I can only blame on a contact high brought about from my errant possessions, I decided to go the rest of the trip without shaving.  “Just let it grow,” was my motto.

A little over a month and a half later and I was on a return flight to the United States from Manchester UK.  To say I was anxious to remove the facial hair would be an understatement of magnitude along the lines of saying my eyes may have been a little pink during my time in Amsterdam.  I don’t think I made it an hour in my house before my face was once again completely clean shaven.

I did manage to learn a few things during that experiment.  The first is that – at the time – 98% of the gray hairs on my body were located on my face.  That number has since dwindled down to around 90% as random gray hairs continue to sprout up across my body where before there were none.  The second is that I absolutely hate having facial hair.  It itches.  It pokes and pricks my skin.  It feels unsanitary.  And, to be honest, I really do not like the look of it on my person.  I really am my father’s son.

I mention all of this because when it came to the discussions Greg and I had regarding the appearance of various characters, he decided that Brad Guy should have a goatee with soul patch.  Granted, I had decided that the Ghost would have a scraggly, unkept beard so there is a small sense of fairness there.  However, Greg has had facial hair in the form of a goatee for the past 20+ years.  Additionally, he had already grown out a scraggly, unkept beard for a commercial he was shooting for another company.

I, on the other hand, had to grow out this goatee for our initial promotional video footage.  Despite intending on going to Comic Con International as Brad Guy and thus a reason to just keep the goatee, I had to immediately shave it off (as well as all my body hair from ankles to earlobes) for a quick round of surgery the week after shooting.  I am now going through the horror of growing the goatee out once again; which I am convinced contains more grey hairs with each time I regrow it. 

I hate it and it is absolutely driving me nuts.  At this point I am determined to dress as Brad Guy for the first two days of SDCC2019 so that I might shave this infernal thing off before the weekend.  Which will be heaven. Until I return home and must start growing the blasted thing out again for filming episodes of Hearst Castle Ghost in August and September.

I have no proof, but I am absolutely convinced that Greg’s arguments for Brad Guy to sport a goatee – no matter how logical his reasoning may have seemed – was strictly meant as a way of punishing me for some past wrong I perpetrated against him early on in my life.  Some grudge he has held firmly to for all these years which I likely forgot about moments after the occurrence.   I am my father’s son, but I am also apparently the target for my brother’s perverse sense of humor.  The things we do for art…