Tag Archives: beard

Cosmetic

Cosmetic: (n) a preparation for beautifying the face, skin, hair, nails, etc.

I have an odd face.

Not odd in the sense of grotesque, but rather unusual.

Though I am a man, I really can’t grow a beard. Matter of fact, I can go many days without shaving before anybody would even call it stubble.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I don’t have eyebrows. It’s like the plans were drawn for some, but apparently there was some problem with the shipment.

My ears pin back to my head. I know that normally ears are a problem because they stick out, but mine could certainly be a bit more assertive.

My nose is small for such a big face.

And as I’ve grown older, I’m not so concerned with wrinkles as I am with little discolorations—marks that appear, changing my countenance from smooth to sometimes resembling the surface of the moon.

I have two such places. One is in the middle of my left cheek. It appears to be some sort of wart. It is tiny, which makes it even more annoying. Then, near my left eye, I have a very light brown age spot.

I realize this is not of much interest to you. (Matter of fact, I may be writing this sentence to no readership.)

But the point is, I want to take those two tiny mars and use cosmetics to cover them up, so that my face looks like a moon pie instead of the cratered dark side.

It is vain.

It is the last thing I do in the morning—before coming out of my room, I grab a simple cover stick and touch those two parts with coloration until they disappear.

I’m not so sure it makes me look younger—but it does make me feel younger.

Or maybe just immature and childish.


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Conspicuous

Conspicuous: (adj) standing out so as to be clearly visible

Moments of clarity are often easy to see but difficult to handle.

The greatest gift we give to ourselves is to have a totally candid awareness of how we come across to the world around us.

What is conspicuous about me?

  • I am fat.
  • I am bald.
  • I can’t grow a beard.
  • I have no eyebrows.
  • I am friendly.
  • I am relatively kind.
  • I’m not terribly opinionated. (At least that’s my opinion.)
  • I like to laugh.
  • I like to be funny.
  • I like to be aware of what’s going on in the world around me.
  • I like to make eye contact when I listen.
  • I probably think too deeply for the average person’s preference.
  • I sometimes start a list and make it too long.

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

(click the elephant to see what he’s reading!)

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Cigar

Cigar: (n) a cylinder of tobacco rolled in tobacco leaves for smoking.

I work very hard at being a man.

I thought having a penis and a beard would be sufficient, but turns out, both of those things are too common to set you apart from the herd.

“Manly things done by manly men in a manly way.”

What in the hell is that?

But you shouldn’t question it too much, because that brings up the possibility of you being gay, which is not a bad thing anymore, but might connote that you are “soft.”

You know what soft is, right? Neither team wants you.

Women think you’re nice for conversation and men keep wondering when you’re going to finally turn gay.

That’s the way I feel about cigars.

I get offered cigars a lot–and by a lot, I mean more than once. People who smoke cigars are historians. They not only know all the details of the little brown tube, but where it began, who smokes this particular brand, how illegal they are, and an absolute plethora of adjectives to describe the smoothness of the taste.

In my lifetime I have smoked two cigarettes and three cigars. (Yay! Cigars win!) Anyway, I can’t truthfully tell you that I adequately partook of either experience. I did not inhale. Just like President Clinton, my morality suddenly clicked in right before taking a deep breath. So the smoke remained in my mouth, barely escaping into my nose–where it stung really, really, really bad. I struggled not to choke. (God, please don’t let me choke! I’m sitting in front of someone I want to impress and I don’t want to be choking on the $54 cigar he just presented to me.)

Yet it was unpleasant.

For two days, no matter how much teeth brushing or mouth-washing I did, cigar residue clung to the inside cave of my mouth.

I have nothing against cigarettes or cigars from an ethical or moral position, but if it’s going to be a symbol of manliness, please mark me down: “N for neuter.”

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Cherub

Cherub: (n) a beautiful or innocent-looking child.

It takes a lot for me to become motivated to try to lose weight.

It’s similar to convincing an ant-eater that ant consumption is bad for its health. After all, you are named “ant-eater.” To suddenly stop eating ants not only removes your diet, but robs you of your identity.

I.e., if I am not a fat man, who am I?

If I’m not the guy talking about calories while lamenting my metabolism, how would I be able to find myself in a crowded mall?

My identity is wrapped up in my weaknesses just as much as my virtues. I don’t know why we take so much time to lie, cheat and cover up our frailties, when the
y are obviously going to pop up and announce their presence.

But every once in a while, I do become motivated to try to carve away some of the fat from my body. It usually takes a shock. One such occasion happened when a gentleman from a newspaper, reviewing my show and describing my face, wrote: “He is a chubby fellow with cherub-like features.”

I was appalled.

There is no man born on this Earth who wants to be a chubby cherub. Matter of fact, if you told a woman that her blind date was “chubby and cherub-like” she just might call in sick.

I became obsessed.

I went to my bathroom mirror and stood there for at least fifteen minutes, peering at my cheeks–my second chin which was thinking about adding on an addition–and eventually became convinced that I indeed was a cherub. Although that supposedly has angelic proportions, it also makes you look too child-like and too plump.

I immediately started a diet, which didn’t last long because I was motivated for all the wrong reasons.

So over the years I have tried to grow a beard, which was as successful as any other cherub, and I’ve sported a mustache–a goatee which I occasionally have to pencil in because it’s just not dark enough.

This whole story would be very pathetic except for the fact that deep in my heart, I really don’t care.

My confidence is not based on my appearance, but rather, the confidence my appearance may proffer to others.

 

 

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Beard

Beard: (n) a growth of hair on the chin and lower cheeks of a man’s face.Dictionary B

Call it an oversimplification, but I believe the three stages in the life of a man can be summed up as follows:

  1. Birth
  2. Arrogance
  3. Disproven.

The key to success in human life, wearing a male body, is to arrive at “disproven” with a sense of humor instead of disappointment.

So it was well after my birth, in my season of arrogance, that I decided I wanted to grow a beard. For the life of me I cannot remember what stimulated this notion, but understanding my mindset in that season, it had something to do with being sexy. Because being sexy in the arrogant period of macho life is Number 1 on the Top 5 of important goals.

Of course, you know the problem.

Each one of us is issued a body filled with genetic mishaps, and within that body are limitations. As it turned out, one of mine was the ability to grow a decent beard.

I should have suspected this since I don’t really need to shave every day and only do so to keep up with the “Bill Joneses.”

So since I don’t need to shave all the time, it’s highly unlikely that my face is going to suddenly sprout a bush.

And it didn’t.

It grew in various portions of acreage, leaving other areas deserted.

I was unable to grow any hair on my cheeks, so my beard made me look like I was trying to become a Jew instead of a gigolo.

I persisted.

I used eyebrow pencil to fill it in for a long time, before finally one day I looked in the mirror and pitied my poor efforts.

As it turns out, I can grow a mustache and a soul patch.

I call it a beard. This shall satisfy my need for arrogance as I continue on in my understanding of being disproven.

 

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

 

 

Aaron

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

1. Aaron: (in the Bible) brother of Moses and the traditional founder of the Jewish priesthood

2. Aaron: Hank (1934- ) U.S. baseball player, full name Henry Louis Aaron. He set the all-time career record for home runs (755) and runs batted in (2,297). Baseball Hall of Fame (1982)

What do these two guys have in common?

People don’t have to have things in common. It’s kind of fun if they do, though.

My understanding is that Aaron from the Bible had a really long beard. Hank Aaron didn’t. A beard might get in the way of hitting home runs.

Speaking of that, maybe there’s a tie-in. Hank hit home runs and Aaron from the Bible was always dealing with people who wanted to run home to Egypt. Matter of fact, Aaron was so weak that he built a Golden Calf for people to worship. That’s when his brother, Moses, came down, took the Ten Commandments and tried to knock the Golden Calf out of the park.

You see? Another connection to baseball.

Must have been tough to be Aaron–the Bible one. Because his brother stuttered or had some sort of speech impediment, he was selected to do all the talking in front of the Pharoah. That had to be tough. Moses whispered in his ear and told him a plague of frogs was going to be sent to the Egyptian people, but HE was stuck with saying it out loud. Tough room, huh?

Hank Aaron had the most home runs for a career. That’s pretty impressive. That’s no flash in the pan. That’s not like hitting seventy in one year. That’s like doing it year after year. So maybe the similarity between these two guys is how different they were.

Bible Aaron did fine when things were great and the pitches thrown his way came right across the plate. Hank, on the other hand, hit ’em out of the stadium regularly, no matter who was pitching.

I guess what we can learn from this is … absolutely nothing, which is often the end result of object lessons. A teacher will work very hard to make a point, which totally escapes the grasp of the student. The teacher becomes more emphatic and the student pretends to understand–to escape getting in trouble.

Peaceful co-confusion.