Beard Envy

I am incredibly jealous of beards and moustaches.  I mean I am crazy jealous because I want one but I can’t grow one. The closest I get is the mysterious wispy hair that appears on my face every few months (You know the one I mean ladies).  I have, on numerous occasions, considered how I would look as a bearded lady. I reckon I could pull it off but it just isn’t going to happen unless I start popping some hormones, because nature decided not to give me the gift of beard.

I feel that if I had some type of facial hair I would gain more street cred or look posh. I would have more of an edge about me because beards and moustaches just automatically make you look smarter or more sophisticated. Or like a really cool 60’s hippie chic Jesus look-a-like that just rolled up from Woodstock.

I am fairly sure this obsession began early on in life. I remember at four or five I would dunk my face in bath suds to give me a snowy white Santa beard. A few years later, when I was still in primary school, I had to play Daddy Warbucks from Annie. Every night I embraced the character and drew on a thick black ronnie with eyeliner or if I was feeling really crazy, with mascara to make it look nice and bushy. I loved it. It made me look all so effortlessly rich and fancy. If I was to do that now though I am fairly sure people would think I am crazy.

 I do realise some girls have taches; I know that is not by choice and you probably feel quite embarrassed by it. I get that, there is a lot of stigma attached to women with beards. They used to be part of freak shows and kept away from society. Even with celebrities like Conchita opening up a discussion on femininity, beauty and even facial hair the world still would not accept too many ladies with a thick bushy beard. If I roll up to Tesco dolled up with a full-on beard the reaction would be extremely different to someone in the public eye doing it.

 I am also fairly sure you could do some psycho-analysis on me and discover it’s got something to do with my basic feminist envy of men’s power. I am sure that behind it all that is it, it’s like penis envy but with facial hair. (While we are on the topic, Freud’s beard = amazing, just saying). But my lack of man hormones is what is standing in my way, (I know this is testosterone but man hormones works better here).  If biology had given me a beard I may have in fact hated it. But it does not stop me being jealous and wanting one to stroke pensively and pretend I am deep in thought about the state of the world. Mostly though, I just want to put flowers in them and pretend I am that Jesus hippie look-a-like.

Added to all my jealousy is the wonderful charity filled month of MOvember that ignites my petty jealous soul as I watch the many bearded men wandering around. It also annoys me that I cannot fully participate in this wonderful cause. Guess I will just have to get the eyeliner out for the next few weeks (Sigh).

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