I’m conforming – for the time being, at least. At any rate, my face looks different. Currently, there are piddly hairs growing from it and I’m actively participating in the world renowned, unofficial month-long holiday known as ‘No Shave November’.

I feel gross, I wake up every morning, look at myself in the mirror and say aloud, “Who are you?” The world seems to whisper back, “A lumberjack protege.” And I suppose I’m okay with that – what else have I got to do before Christmas rolls around?

The beard craze for me began with the original IFC show “Whisker Wars” in August. Competitive bearding across the globe was a new and amazing world to me that seemed to weave effortlessly into the realm of reality TV.

Really truly, beards are basically the bees knees. When a moustache is integrated into the thickness, natural pattern, texture and warm ambiance of the beard itself, a full beard becomes unmatched by most other wonders of the world. I only wish that time and patience weren’t such an integral part of the beard growing process.

I’ve faced the facts. I’ll probably never achieve the status of a full beard composure. Nor will I ever look the slightest bit similar to my good friend Kevin Jones and his almighty respective beard. But gross as it may be, in this moment, my scruff is perfect.

Regardless, it will most likely be gone within the week. (Don’t worry, I won’t become the lovable, yet naked bearded man in the classic Shel Silverstein poem, “The Beard.”)

As always, comments, questions, and concerns in relation to mustaches, mutton chops and other beard relations should be directed to [email protected] or to my Twitter @thehippestcat.

The Beard

“My beard grows down to my toes,

I never wears no clothes,

I wraps my hair

Around my bare,

And down the road I goes.”

–Shel Silverstein