03.04.02 - 1:37 pm

not many things fill me with such dread as shaving. ive been shaving for almost six years now. i have switched techniques. from the simple bic razor that my mother also used to shave her legs with, to an electric razor with three rotating heads for maximum closeness. and then back to razors with the mach 3. there have been thousands of cuts. gallons of blood lost. bald spots. accidental shaving of unintended places. i hate shaving.

sixteen days ago, i began a mission. i made the decision to grow a beast of immeasureable proportions. a creature that evokes feelings of fear and uncomfortability. its mere name is hushed in conversation. anything more than a whisper and it would vanish. so then, let us whisper now, you and i, of this thing that i have mustered.

by day four, it was already apparent that i had something up my sleeve. it was requested i shave from many of my peers. but their offer i adamently declined. there would be no shaving until the beast was satisfied.

day eight rolled around and where once no self consciousness could be felt, it was now slowly creeping up on me. the desire to shave. to trim. to make myself at least semi presentable. no. i must carry on.

day twelve. i was gross. i was awkward. i wasnt comfortable walking in public places. people werent comfortable around me. i was still prepared to continue the mission.

on day thirteen it happened. i made the decision to go forth. i shaved. i shaved everything but the beast. it remained as the token of beauty. i had made it!

i went to a party that night. lots of guys that i know fairly well, so it wasnt so bad. my compliments included porn star. ron jeremy. hispanic american (in so many words). needless to say i was mighty flattered. a female did appear. and she was very attractive. but, out of shame i could not bear conversation with her. as much as i wanted to lure her away from the clutches of my friend mr sampson, my self esteem was far too low because of the beast to attempt any such flirtatious carelessness.

the next day i was crushed by my familys continued attempts to wear me down and mock me. they couldnt quite understand that i wasnt merely doing this for a chuckle or to make friends. i wasnt using my face as a conversation starter. no, it was much more than that. it was best described as a rite of passage. the process of metamorphisis. from child to man. it took fourteen days to do it, but i conquered. i looked like a jerk.

my first day out in full scale college public has been harrowing. im nervous. shady. shame now fills the void where self esteem used to flourish. im weak. i cant bring myself to make eye contact with people i pass by. i dont even bother glancing at attractive females i pass. the very act of doing so would render them fearful of me. charges would be filed. you have to understand, a mustache is the equivalent of looking like gary coleman. with a mullet. there are just some lines you dont cross in life, and fortunately for me, ive crossed that line, and returned safely. stronger, more powerful than i was before.

http://homepage.mac.com/jodox/PhotoAlbum1.html

this is the evidence that the beast was created, molded and then destroyed. it was getting out of control. i had to put it down. i was tired of looking like an asshole.

razors hurt. they cut. they slice. everytime i shave it looks as though i survived a battle with a bengal tiger weilding machetes instead of claws. its a painful experience. i loathe it. but at least i dont look like gary coleman.