Day 739: Ow, My Face

I’ve been clean-shaven since January 4 or so, which is the longest I’ve been clean-shaven since… 1996, or something. I’ve been a facial hair guy for as long as I can recall. I’ve face-shaved periodically after taking my beard off in the past, but never shaved for more than one day.

But I bought some fancy shavin’ cream on stupid post-Boxing-Day special and thought “well, why not shave for a while?” I can tell you why:

  • I only have an old-fashioned razor that takes old-fashioned blades;
  • My face has weird contours, including an abnormally deep valley between my chin and lower lip, but my face is also pretty… squat?… so it’s almost like a mail slot;
  • I seem to nick and bleed in a sharp breeze, let alone when I’m whacking at my face with the sharpest thing mankind has ever invented.

So it’s been going okay, I guess, but right now I look like I’ve been making out with a Cenobite. The good news is I’m now certain that I don’t faint at the sight of my own blood. Or a litre of my own blood. Coming from my face.

There are solutions, of course — get a razor with eighteen blades, for instance — but I don’t want to spend more money on shaving.

And why am I doing it?

It feels vaguely more honest to be trying to get in shape with a naked face. Especially when you have cherub cheeks and a bit of a double chin — I had a beard even at my fittest, but now it feels a bit like I’m using it to hide things.

Will I stick to it? I think I’m going to take a day to let my face heal — I just did some quick searching on how often to change blades — and see. I don’t hate the ritual. I’m not super fond of my face. I don’t like looking like I lost a fight with a lawnmower. I don’t know.