"Take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!" --Ms. Frizzle

"Take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!" --Ms. Frizzle

Monday, March 4, 2013

Bye Bye Beardie

For months now Avery has been muttering dire threats regarding his beard. He's going to shave it off. He's really going to do it. He's not kidding. It has to go.

Tonight it did.

Avery strode into the bathroom and, after a lot of very purposeful-sounding buzzing, emerged with a much shorter version of the previous beard. It was Beard 2.0. I approved.

But then he went back into the bathroom. More buzzing ensued. And then... "Oh shit." He came back out sporting stubble and a look of deep concern. "I think I messed up. They're really uneven." I admit that I was only paying half-attention at this point, but I tore myself away from Jason Good's blog and turned around to get a nice long look at my newly shorn husband. Uneven? I scanned his face. Nothing seemed horribly amiss, although he did look oddly unfamiliar without his beard. I squinted at him... and then my eyes were drawn to his right hand, which was nervously petting the hair above his ear. Something was off. He could see it in my face, and asked "how bad is it?" That was when it finally dawned on me that Avery had buzzed off one of his sideburns.

I want to stop here and stress that it doesn't look that bad. Seriously. Avery is currently sitting across the living room from me and I can't even tell. But as I looked at him, fretting over his botched haircut, no comforting words sprang to mind. Of course the longer I said nothing the more horrified he looked, until finally I did the least helpful thing I could have possibly done: I laughed.

Oh boy, did I laugh. Giggles I didn't even know I was holding in came tumbling out, and with every guffaw Avery cringed, poor man. I wish I could say I was kinder in that moment, but all I did was sit in hysterics on the couch, waving my hands feebly in front of my face as if shooing away flies. I am such a catch.

Fortunately, what Avery lacks in a supportive spouse he makes up for with good looks; if anyone can pull off the one-sideburn look, he can. While I finished laughing and weeping he returned to the bathroom to touch up his handiwork with a justifiably indignant air about him. Now he's sitting in his chair listening to Eddie Izzard. I wonder if he's forgiven me yet.

Guess I'd better go find out.

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