A week's worth of work - not too shabby.
There has been talk on this Day 8, and even some straight-edged follow-through, of trimming the necklines by some participants. This is all well and good, and within the rules.
That said, I am inspired by the amazing generosity of those who have sponsored my own facial efforts, and everyone who has donated thus far. You demand more, and I intend to give it to you. As such, I am announcing that I will be growing my beard this month:
The LIKE MEN ONCE DID rules variant retains the core principles of HoNoToGroABeMo, but excludes the less manly add-on rules for comfort and appearance, namely trimming the neckline for comfort and other areas for length. It's not like I look down upon those who do for their puerile concessions to grooming during a month when the point is that we are not supposed to be grooming-
Oh. Wait. I do.
The gauntlet is thrown. I continue to be humbled by my generous sponsors, so my beard will grow unsnipped this month. Can you say the same?
Sensation: neckline prickle-itch is beginning to subside
Palpation: feathery softness globally, including the chin
Personal satisfaction rating: 3 (out of 5 Norsemen)
A beard? Who, me?! A felt creature cannot grow a beard!
One interesting side effect of shaving off longstanding facial hair is the number of people who realize something's changed about me, but aren't exactly sure what. The most popular comment among those who don't recognize the follicular absence has been "Wow, Dr. Cmar... have you lost weight?" (don't I wish a notable number of pounds were shed along with my whiskers) followed closely by "Are you feeling ok? You look run down..." (true, given my current recuperative state from an influenza-like illness, but not precisely what they were meaning).
Since today, in addition to being Day 7, is also National Bookstore Day, Laura and I headed to Constellation Books to celebrate. There, I tried to find a better disguise than merely "shorn." Unfortunately, I don't think that "bearded muppet" is something I should be attempting to pull off.
Sensation: that thorny neckline itch means manly growth
Palpation: soft but firm globally except for the anterior chin, which still remains roughly stiff
Personal satisfaction rating: 2.5 (out of 5 Norsemen)
Alcohol-based hand sanitizer is a reasonable alternative to soap and water for killing bacteria and viruses. Uh, on your hands.
I wouldn't say that I'm "paranoid" about germs, or anything.
Instead, I prefer to think that my chosen line of work has left me with a wealth of detailed, not at all obsession-inducing, knowledge about bugs and our bodies. For instance: the total number of bacteria estimated to live on the skin of an individual human is upwards of 1012 organisms, depend on the collection method used. The influenza virus, when coughed onto a surface, can remain alive for hours, or even days in cold and wet conditions. 1 gram of feces can contain from 109 to 1011 bacteria. The primary way that viral respiratory infections, from the common cold to influenza, are contracted is not by inhaling particles out of the air, but rather by touching an infected surface and rubbing your eyes, nose, or mouth.
As such, the best thing anyone can do to prevent infections is to wash your hands at appropriate intervals. Not that I have a compulsion about hand-washing, of course. Or washing other things. Like my insides. Where all those bacteria are. But alcohol does, in point of fact, kill germs...
One thing that alcohol does not do is cause hair to grow, or else this Day 6 photo would feature a multi-foot chin beast, resplendent in the sun. Or, failing that, the fluorescent office lighting.
That said, lady and gentlemen, there is growth marching forward on this face of battle, and it cannot be stopped.
Senasation: neckline tickle-itch is now a less-comfortable bristle-itch
Palpation: soft but firm globally except for the anterior chin, which remains roughly stiff
Personal satisfaction rating: 2.5 (out of 5 Norsemen)
Fluffy bunnies. Fragrant clover. Bedazzling rainbows.
After an extended illness, it is a soul-refreshing thing to return to work. Toiling honestly in fruitful labor that is appreciated by all, and at every turn greeting by the stunning and well-disposed personages who felt your absence as but a vacancy in their very souls, now rendered complete and, nay, meaningful with your return. Today I was greeting by a parade of perfumed, be-ribboned midgets who danced intricate choreography around my gleeful form as a sign of welcome, after which a 7'8" man named Iakkov tossed rose petals about me in the air from a deep basket as though autumn had fast forwarded in but an instant to spring, and the trees had burst forth from their fall slumber to full April glory.
Ahhh, good times. Day 5 finds nothing but respect and camaraderie. Yup. Nothing but.
Senation: the neckline itch, although still present, is transitioning into a lovely tickle
Palpation: still rough about the Van Dyke region, but transitioning to soft and feathery in the mandibular region
Personal satisfaction rating: 3.5 (out of 5 Norsemen)
These cold, dead eyes speak the truth - this head is not actual flesh.
It has been previously speculated by Mr. Johnson that my head is, in fact, an elaborate prosthesis whose major design flaw is in the unblinking, frankly artificial eyes. I have attempted to disabuse him of this notion, lest the truth be revealed, but I have been foiled in my attempts to do so - Mr. Miller correctly noted that my pose from yesterday is impossible for the normal musculature of the human face to achieve. He rightly suspects that some form of demented meat puppetry is involved.
I am undone. The head is, indeed, a prosthesis. Fie on you both for dragging this out into the harsh, skin-cancerous glare of direct sunlight.
You must admit that the the facial hair generation techniques in use on this false head of mine are quite convincing, no? Such a dusky, full Day 4 facial growth? Yesss...
Senation: increasing prickly-itch about the neckline
Palpation: abrasiveness has all but transitioned to a firm smoothness
Personal satisfaction rating: 3.5 (out of 5 Norsemen)
Perhaps the most flattering picture of me in existence. Damn, but I'm a sexy beast...
Natalie recently pointed out two things of late: 1. that my shiny chin is not nearly so shocking of a sight as she had anticipated, and 2. it would help her to overcome this perception if I demonstrated an appropriate level of fear in response. So, here you have it - the utmost terror of the Halloween shearing roiled up from the depths of my soul and deforming my facial muscles out of revulsion.
This was made easier for me to recall by considering the utter horror of yesterday's pic. But don't merely take my word for it, oh no. It seems Mr. Johnson, after gazing on my countenance, is unable to find the goodness in his dreams, and Mr. Miller was so startled by it's freakishness that he declared it his scary picture of the day. To this end, while providing the requested "shock," I decided that Day 3's image need to show a far more attractive, soothing sight.
If look past my Adonis-like visage - and keep trying, I know it's hard, but you'll get there eventually - you can plainly observe an encroaching darkness signifying the lush, if not entirely uniform, growth of a well-supported facial garden. I continue to fertilize with your generosity.
Sensation: mild neck-line itchiness
Palpation: diffuse scratchy nubbins that could, in a pinch, sand Ikea-grade pressboard
Personal satisfaction rating: 4 (out of 5 Norsemen)
HAPPY to be growing for mammaries!
It was noted yesterday that all of my pictures thus far have featured a downturned lip, so this is provided as a clear example that I am capable of other facial expressions. Much like Wesley noted of himself last year, I am incapable of taking a normal picture, so don't expect to see me in any "traditional smiling poses," unless I have been taken unawares.
And you will not take me unawares.
I have continued to convalesce from a dread respiratory tract illness, but my face has proceeded to pour it's down-time effort into pushing out hair. Look upon this Day 2 chin-darkening and tremble, gentlemen!
My sincerest of thanks to all of you who have donated thus far. I am deeply humbled that I have attracted the sponsorship I have received, and I echo Bob and the others at our amazement and gratitude for your generosity on everyone's behalf.
There are still four weeks left, however. Our chins shall not let you down... and we have not yet begun to fight!
Or, grow. Grow, I mean. Yes.
Sensation: the errant breeze barely registers as abnormal
Palpation: coarsely granular along the maxilla, with a lawn of finely-bendable hair nubbins lower down
Personal satisfaction rating: 4 (out of 5 Norsemen)
Rise, my pretties...
So we have reached the 24 hour mark, and I must say... I'm actually not disappointed. I am under no illusions about my ability to swiftly generate the lush, uniform jaw-mane of a Mr. Van Verth, for example, and the fact that I have both visually and palpably appreciable grainage at the Day 1 mark is reassuring.
Then again, I've been prostrate most of the weekend battling a non-swine flu illness, so my body has had plenty of extra time to devote to follicular pursuits. That, and the one-hour daylight savings buffer was a generous gift from the world at large to the cause.
Gentlemen, tomorrow we enter the work-week, and then it's really on.
Sensation: still disturbingly tingled by breezes
Palpation: fine-grain, especially under the jaw, with maxillary smoothness
Personal satisfaction rating: 4 (on a scale of 5 Norsemen)
The face, naked and open to the fall air. It shivers, but also tingles.
Day 0 is upon us.
My jaw has faced the razor, and my brave, noble follicles have paid the ultimate price. But soon, they will slowly rise, zombielike, to retake their rightful place.
I do not know the man in the picture, but I am assured that he will grow to be more familiar over the course of the month.
I'm sorry, sweet and oft-groomed face-fuzz... it's time to die for SCIENCE.
My history with the facial awesome did not begin until medical school, when I discovered the glory of the goatee and it's mustachioed cousin, the Van Dyke. I entered residency in 2001 clean-shaven, and as I slowly realized that chin hair = medical excellence, I have not seen said jaw-point since.
Well, apart from that one time in 2006 when I was very tired, and accidentally set the hair-trimmer to "1". But the less said about that, the better.
I first brandished my follicular face-fist during the Great Beard Experiment of '02, which, after a successful run, was called off in early 2003 on the count of humidity. I resisted wielding such a mandibular weapon again until 2007, when I decided that finally completing medical training and taking on full physician duties mandated taking on full jaw insulation. This I have maintained at varying lengths and shapes...
...until now.
Today is Day -1, and tomorrow I welcome my chin back into the world. Then, I will show you in daily pictures, along with the other manly men on this site, exactly How Not To Grow A Beard.
I would have done this thing of glory out of it's own innate glory-ness, but the fact that our exercise in dubious testosterone secretion is raising money for an excellent cause makes it truly worthwhile. Check out Beards4Boobs in the sidebar, or go here to sponsor a beard of your choice by donating to the Ann Voegerl Memorial Breast Cancer Research Fund. You'd better - I say so, and I'm a doctor.