Damon Young has a lot going for him. A full, glorious beard is not one of them.
Originally appeared at Very Smart Brothas
God blessed me with an abundance of gifts.
An abnormally large and egg-shaped head that can be used as a weapon if I’m ever attacked by a ostrich or even as a football if I’m ever accidentally decapitated. The ability to effortlessly create haikus using only different euphemisms for “vagina.” A voice that subtly reminds people that I probably scored higher on the PSAT than they did. Spicy farts.
Completely irrational athletic ability. (There’s no way someone who looks how I currently look should be able to dunk a basketball. Seriously, every time I dunk now I feel like I’m Punk-ing myself.) A decidedly utilitarian smirk that makes Dominican women want to wrestle. A penis the exact same color as my eyes. A “hmm. maybe he can grow on me or something“-able face.
Yet, despite these gifts, I’m completely overcome with envy whenever I see a picture of Common, James Harden or Black Thought or even Flo Rida. Why? Well, those motherf*ckers can grow completely full beards, a task I dearly want to be able to accomplish.
Now, this isn’t to say that my beard game is in the toilet. As seen here, I do have a decent amount of facial hair, and I have received compliments on its fullness, its color, and the way it feels when I perform cunnilingus. Basically, Paul Pierce I am not.
But, although I’d never want to pull one of those Rick Ross full-face beards that look like the Smoke Monster is trying to eat your cheekbones, I’m completely disheartened by the fact that I’ll never even have the ability to do that; a realization that has occasionally induced face-shivers, shower wall slides, and enough tears to fill a half gallon bowl of Cheerios.
Honestly, I couldn’t tell you why I envy the beard so much. Perhaps it’s because I enjoy food so much that I know I’d love scouring my beard for random scraps of bacon if I got hungry. Maybe I secretly wish I was a Blaxploitation star, using my beard of virility to save sassy women from jive turkeys, rampant pimps, and wack orgasms while they tell misty-eyed tales of my beard’s musky, manly scent. And, well, maybe I just think I’m pretty funny-looking when I’m completely clean-shaven and a perpetually full beard will help me look less primate.
I do know, though, that although I don’t really believe it when old men say things like “You know, if you splash some urine on your face, it’ll make your beard grow fuller,” I don’t not believe if enough to never try it. (And by “never try it” I mean “not try it as soon as I’m done writing this“)