Fur (redux)

My experimentation with facial hair continues. The goatee, in its pure form, has gone, a victim of scratchiness and trimming difficulties. I took photos, but none of them are much good. My problem with taking photos of myself is that I tend to have that "Did I just press that button right?" expression on my face. I now have a series called Lightly Perplexed with Goatee.


The hair that remains is being reconfigured on a daily basis, as I play with the possibilities. The day before yesterday I took off the hair on my chin, except for a wide strip down the middle. I looked like a cross between a 70s porn star and Doug Parkinson.


It was not a good look.


Last night I shaved off everything except the moustache and a slightly narrower strip down the middle between my bottom lip and my chin. Now I look like one of the Three Musketeers... or a sad, sad man who wants to look like one of the Three Musketeers.


Tonight the moustache goes. It feels sort of creepy, and I keep seeing it out of the corner of my eye and thinking that my upper lip is under attack by something science-fictiony. I will keep the remaining supersized soulpatch ( a la Shannon Noll) for at least another day, and see how it goes.