It’s been over a month since my last update about the beard. Unfortunately, I wish I could say that no news is good news, because the news is all bad. The pattern highlighted in my previous post has shown itself to be permanent – disappointing to say the least. This is Asia and few people can grow beards here. I went on a trip with one of my coworkers and his friends to Dumaguete, a beach town down south that is also the capital city of Negros Oriental. In this picture, I am shown with the only Filipino in the entire island of Negros that is capable of growing a beard. The entire week we were referred to as the terrorists. Because the market for the products doesn’t exist, I don’t have access to the proper grooming tools, so I’ve been using a mustache trimmer to keep the beast in check. It has worked reasonably well, apart from the errant bare patch. But first, the developments.
A month ago, I had hoped that the barren wasteland between my chin and mouth would slowly fill in. “Just give it time,” I told myself. The good news is that a very small part of my chin began to show signs of life. The bad news is that, in that one spot, I have blond hair. In a devastating blow, the hairs are entirely transparent. But that’s not all. Somehow I have some red hairs in my mustache. I am part-Scottish, part-Austrian. I’m struggling to understand why. Perhaps it’s best to look to the scriptures for answers. In the story of Job, God tests Job’s faith by besetting upon him a string of terrible misfortunes. Is this what is happening to me? Am I being tested? If so, I don’t know how much more I can take it. But then, I came across this picture:
That’s when I thought to myself: I’m not the only one that looks ridiculous with a beard. If Mick Jagger can look like a homeless person, then so can I. With this renewed sense of purpose, I will continue growing the beard.