the frailty of youth

I just killed something in the prime of its youth earlier this afternoon: my sweet, sweet facial hair.

it's something I take for granted, my ability to grow facial hair. Give me a week and I've got a beard pretty well settled in; in five minutes or less, though, it can all be gone. I'm not going to lie, I've grown use to the ability to go through spurts of liking having facial hair and disliking it, letting it grow and shaving it on equally random whims.

the sad thing is, as if to counteract the awesomeness of this power, I am sadly going very bald at the ripe old age of 21. Remember Zinedine Zidane, the French soccer player who headbutted the Italian guy at the World Cup last summer? He famously has the same sort of hairstyle (big bald patch in the back, widow's peak up front) that I do. the only way it looks good is cut short, because otherwise it's a big shining "look at me, I'm bald!" beacon, glowing in self-consciousness.

right now, it's gone because I've gone very close for my hair on top of my head, and I disliked the "big goatee with almost bald = biker" look. so it's clean-shaven and almost bald for now. I'm sure my fun with facial hair will rarely end - I do quite like having a goatee, but not when it's this warm and my hair is this short. but knowing I have the power to construct awesome facial hair the likes of which many men could only dream to have is definitely a feather in my cap.