Clean-shaven: (adj) description of a man without a beard or mustache.

I must be careful.

As I share my thoughts today, I must remind myself that there’s a danger of offering sour grapes–or souring the grapes that are available.

Yet I don’t like beards.

I have to admit that I am incapable of growing one. Underneath my chin hair will sprout, making me appear to be a Jewish rabbi, but on my cheeks I appear to have chihuahua skin. Yes, maybe you could call me the “German Hairless.”

When I was younger this created some despair in my soul because I was very concerned about my level of masculinity. For a time I even pretended to grow a beard. Every day, as I tried to groom it into some sort of creature of respect, it mocked me from the mirror.

My sons have beards, and there seems to be a rebirth of interest in them at this present time.

But I feel the beard is representative of too much macho, rugged, “frontiersman energy” in a time when we need to be gaining mutual humanity between the genders.

And truthfully, I think women like to look at beards, but feel much different when they’re up close and personal.

So I am ill-suited to write this essay. There should be some whiskered, wizened soul sharing the beauty of his manly landscape instead of clean-shaven me, sitting here, trying to present an argument for smoothness.

But you’re stuck.

I am clean-shaven but I am still a man. Just wanted to make that clear, in case there was any doubt.

And for those who choose to grow beards and flaunt their hair mass, I must tell you with all honesty that if it’s close-cropped to the face it looks decent, but if you let it grow out too much, it begins to look like pubic hair suspiciously sprouting out of your head.