I just shaved my chin. Some may accuse me of jumping on the “Bradwagon” (LOL!!!) and say that I shaved it because he did it. It’s merely coincidence.
Right now I just feel a draft. My chin pants fell down, and I am naked. And I am in pain because I didn’t have the figurative machete to take down these bamboo shoots. It reminded me of my first job as a fifteen year old when my neighbor asked me to come over and mow his lawn for $20. What he should have said was, “Hey will you come over and mow my knee-high lawn filled with dog crap.” Every few seconds the lawn mower would stall, and it would smell like poo. It was like that only with my razor. I’d cruise in full speed at the patch and it would just slide over and stop cutting. I think I chopped a little too close in certain areas as well. It feels like burning.
I’ve also found myself reaching for the ghost of past chin hair. I try to stroke the patch of hair like a little puppy, but it is gone. I weep when I feel the smooth burning skin.
So the real question is, why do this? Well, I have a portfolio review tomorrow and supposedly it makes me look more professional. Yeah, like whatever. At least tomorrow is the last day of school so I can’t start my summer job of growing it back.









