Just a few months after I started working from home I was having a “discussion” with my wife when she made the scathing statement: “Your whole persona is….unattractive!”
A few days after that comment was made I received this clipping courtesy of my father-in-law.
I value efficiency and substance over convention.
I would never be like the buffoon in the cartoon and show up to a date in PJs and slippers, but I may not change out of those clothes while working from home. Not having to stay particularly well-kempt affords me that freedom; it also allows me to feel more comfortable conducting self-amusing experiments like growing a beard. Who would have guessed that growing a beard could be such awesome fun?
A friend who had recently grown a goatee caught me on one of my more grizzly days and asked if I was growing a beard. My wife jumped in and mockingly exclaimed: “Ha, he can’t grow a beard!” She pointed at the area next to my lips and then to that space about halfway between my lips and earlobes and said that hair does not grow there. It is not the first time I’ve been mocked for my follicles. My siblings have often made fun of my hair growing ability, the rate of said growth and for my body’s hair patterns (nipple hair factory is a term that is thrown around); these are all apparently things well worth making fun of. This time I accepted the mocking jibe as a challenge. The gauntlet was thrown; it was beard growing time.
Fast-forward three weeks and you have the monstrosity pictured above. I promoted my facial hair to beard status on about day six but was still getting asked “Are you growing a beard?” well into week three. When the beard started approaching woodsman proportions, I no longer was asked if I was growing a beard but rather I fielded comments like “Oh you’ve got a little beard thing.” Or if I am with my wife, she will be asked what she thinks. For the record she is a fan–and she is not alone. I trimmed this guy with a #2 blade before a party last weekend and was quite happy with the reception it received from men and women alike.
One other point of contention that I’ll mention that contributes to this persona is my preference to wear black Nike dri-fit crew socks with tennis shoes and shorts. Apparently this is a fashion faux pas that people feel comfortable approaching my wife about. Only one person has asked me why I wear black socks, a lady from my tennis team. The simple reason I prefer black socks is that my white socks often get stained from wearing them when I play soccer. Black socks remedy that situation. On a sidenote, the dri-fit technology is awesome; my feet are prone to blister because I sweat when I fold laundry, but I rarely blister when wearing these gems. As a sidenote to the sidenote, according to a New York Times article titled Sweatology my propensity to perspire is simply an indication that I am more evolved than you. The lady I explained my black sock reasoning to embraced my logic and when we played together wore a lovely all black outfit to complement my socks. We won 6-3, 6-3 Johnny Cash style.
