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[No-Shave November]

That time I accidentally bared my face to the world

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“I’ll be right there.” That was my girlfriend’s reaction when I told her I’d just shaved my face for the first time since we’d been together. Nothing too unusual about her wanting to see it, right? Except that she was in Manhattan, and I was in Phoenix.

I didn’t mean to shave off my entire beard, only to trim it. But my clippers didn’t have a guard, and I slipped, badly, the cold blade meeting the middle of my cheek, chopping as it went. No hiding that, I thought, so I removed the rest. I looked upon my bare face for the first time in more than two years and … I hated it. Surely, this wasn’t what I looked like before. I mean, so much skin. And that shape? Yuck.

True to her word, my girlfriend flew cross-country the next day to see me—and it’s a good thing she did. Otherwise, after 17 years as my wife, she’d still have never laid eyes on the beardless me. Because that was the last time I shaved.

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