: About Me

I had no choice. The growth was becoming rampant, uncontrollably crawling in every direction. Things were getting wild. Surrendering to my fate, I sighed and picked up my dad's Gillette razor. I didn't learn how to shave until I entered tenth grade. The moustache I had been sporting since I was young had been a source of pride, a mark of maturity among my hairless peers. But by sophomore year, that little cookie duster wasn't so little anymore, and it invited a fuzzy friend under the chin. Suddenly, it wasn't so cool anymore (although in old times, beards symbolized wisdom and sexual poten...