To Beard or Not to Beard

In the 29 years of my existence, I have never been able to successfully grow a beard. It grows in patches and fills up slowly. After a week it begins to itch and I end up looking homeless. Growing up in Poland, I remember the Chernobyl power plant disaster. Pisz, a small city that I grew up in was completely engulfed in this odd white powder. It literally looked like it was snowing in late spring. I remember waiting in line at the hospital, which handed out small plastic container filled with a red-ish colored medicine. My mom made me drink seconds. From what I remember, it tasted like cherry-flavored Robitussin; Absolutely disgusting.

Years later, on a hot steamy New York City summer afternoon, I decided to jump into the Hudson River off a pier next to Hudson River Park in downtown Manhattan. I was a freshmen in high school, it was hot, there were a few girls around, and I didn’t think twice about doing the unthinkable. It was actually quite refreshing; A little slimy, but fearing being pulled down by the current, I quickly climbed back up onto the pier platform.

Ok, what the hell am I getting at. Basically, I’m questioning my ability to grow a because of the potential exposure to all sorts of chemicals during my youth, that could have possible altered my chemical makeup. Insert blatant sarcasm here.

In any case, I’m going on 2 weeks now. It’s slowly filling-in. I still look somewhat homeless, but I choose to accessorize with a hat. Until my fiancée gets fed up with it, I’ll keep pushing through and perhaps I’ll break my unsuccessful cycle.