Perfectionist + Beard + Beard Trimmer...Not Good
A few years ago, I shaved my beard down to a mustache. It wasn’t long until I tired of shaving every day and decided to grow back my beard.
The following December someone suggested that I put a beard trimmer on my Christmas list. Heck, with one of those little gadgets I wouldn’t have to pay a professional. I could trim the beard myself, riiiiight.
Unfortunately for me, Santa was kind that year (actually, I think he just has a warped sense of humor), and Christmas morning found me unwrapping, among other things, a beard trimmer.
Now, I must interject something here. It’s said the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys, and if the toy happens to be electronic, well, you can throw out any ideas of having a stimulating conversation with the man. All he’ll be thinking about is playing with that electronic gadget.
Such was my state of mind, and the sun hadn’t set on Christmas day before the temptation to try out my new toy over powered me. The day went down hill from there.
You see, at times I can be somewhat of a perfectionist and the equation of perfectionist plus beard plus beard trimmer always equals debacle.
True to my nature, I trimmed…and trimmed…and trimmed; yet, my beard had more holes in it than a moth-eaten shirt. Thinking that perhaps a better angle at which to see my beard would help, I twisted and turned in front of the bathroom mirror until I looked like a contortionist at a carnival freak show.
And just when my beard seemed to be evenly trimmed, BOING! A hair that had somehow been missed during the trimming sprang straight out into the air. No problem. I turned the trimmer back on and shazaam, problem solved. Then BOING! Another missed hair. I trimmed it and BOING, well, you get the picture. Before I knew it I'd cropped so many stray hairs my beard resembled something akin to waves breaking on a hairy ocean.
Screaming like a lunatic, I attacked my beard with the trimmer over and over again, trying once and for all to get it even. Time went on, my beard got thinner and thinner, and still it was uneven.
Before long, I noticed the trimmer’s rechargeable battery was weakening. Finally, it died. There was no choice now but to plug the thing into the wall socket and wait for the battery to recharge.
Panic set in. Now what was I going to do? The job couldn’t be left undone. That meant only one alternative--I would have to get out the dreaded scissors to finish trimming my beard.
Back then, as is still the case, scissors and I didn’t have a good track record. Whether cutting paper, cloth, or hair, we always end up making a mess of things. That day would prove to be no exception.
I grabbed the scissors and gave it my best effort. Well, as they say, to make a long story short, thirty frustrating minutes later my former beard was now nothing but stubble, and though I felt it still wasn’t even, I decided to take the advice of former Mrs. Bagley and, “let the dang thing alone!”
Weeks later the thing was getting a bit ragged looking, and though I was tempted to break out the trimmer, I’d decided that paying a professional to trim my beard would be money well spent.
Of course, ex-wife’s threat to put me in a straight-jacket until the urge to trim my own beard subsided might have influenced my decision, just a little.
The following December someone suggested that I put a beard trimmer on my Christmas list. Heck, with one of those little gadgets I wouldn’t have to pay a professional. I could trim the beard myself, riiiiight.
Unfortunately for me, Santa was kind that year (actually, I think he just has a warped sense of humor), and Christmas morning found me unwrapping, among other things, a beard trimmer.
Now, I must interject something here. It’s said the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys, and if the toy happens to be electronic, well, you can throw out any ideas of having a stimulating conversation with the man. All he’ll be thinking about is playing with that electronic gadget.
Such was my state of mind, and the sun hadn’t set on Christmas day before the temptation to try out my new toy over powered me. The day went down hill from there.
You see, at times I can be somewhat of a perfectionist and the equation of perfectionist plus beard plus beard trimmer always equals debacle.
True to my nature, I trimmed…and trimmed…and trimmed; yet, my beard had more holes in it than a moth-eaten shirt. Thinking that perhaps a better angle at which to see my beard would help, I twisted and turned in front of the bathroom mirror until I looked like a contortionist at a carnival freak show.
And just when my beard seemed to be evenly trimmed, BOING! A hair that had somehow been missed during the trimming sprang straight out into the air. No problem. I turned the trimmer back on and shazaam, problem solved. Then BOING! Another missed hair. I trimmed it and BOING, well, you get the picture. Before I knew it I'd cropped so many stray hairs my beard resembled something akin to waves breaking on a hairy ocean.
Screaming like a lunatic, I attacked my beard with the trimmer over and over again, trying once and for all to get it even. Time went on, my beard got thinner and thinner, and still it was uneven.
Before long, I noticed the trimmer’s rechargeable battery was weakening. Finally, it died. There was no choice now but to plug the thing into the wall socket and wait for the battery to recharge.
Panic set in. Now what was I going to do? The job couldn’t be left undone. That meant only one alternative--I would have to get out the dreaded scissors to finish trimming my beard.
Back then, as is still the case, scissors and I didn’t have a good track record. Whether cutting paper, cloth, or hair, we always end up making a mess of things. That day would prove to be no exception.
I grabbed the scissors and gave it my best effort. Well, as they say, to make a long story short, thirty frustrating minutes later my former beard was now nothing but stubble, and though I felt it still wasn’t even, I decided to take the advice of former Mrs. Bagley and, “let the dang thing alone!”
Weeks later the thing was getting a bit ragged looking, and though I was tempted to break out the trimmer, I’d decided that paying a professional to trim my beard would be money well spent.
Of course, ex-wife’s threat to put me in a straight-jacket until the urge to trim my own beard subsided might have influenced my decision, just a little.
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7 comments:
Try electric hair trimmer and a suitable length sole plate Doug, works just fine.... but then I'm not a perfectionist.
LOL- My husband will not trim his beard or let anyone else trim it! It's either all or nothing with him....so he lets it grow until he (or I) can't stand it any longer then he will shave the whole thing off!
I wish he WOULD learn to trim it and keep it neat and shorter because I DO like a beard and don't like it when he shaves it all off-especially the mustache!
Junie
Thank goodness hubby's work place won't allow him to have a beard! Not only would he make a mess of trimming/not trimming it, but he can't even begin to grow a good one! Too many times he just winds up shaving off his mustache when he messes up with the trimming. :)
Doug, was that you I saw on "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" at the fair underneath Mr Potts hair cutting machine? ;)
Sounds like quite a job!!! No wonder my hubby takes so long sometimes. Glad I don't have a beard.!!! Have a terrific weekend!!!
Renae
LOL!! I'm glad you decided to get the professional to do it. I'm sure it was worth every cent. Sometimes it's hard to work on ourselves and get it right!
If I didn't know better -(Because I am reading this on your blog)- I would have thought this was about my not so epic adventures in beard and moustache trimming.
Fortunately time has spared me the agony of these adventures. My beard has evolved past the salt and pepper look - it is almost completely gray now. Since my moustache, eyebrows and the hair atop my head show little gray, I have "lost" the trimmer.
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