Throughout the course of my amazing life I have held many quests. I once succeeded in my venture to gain pounds of muscles, and years later I would continually fail at my quest/dream of doing nothing. But while most of these endeavors were short lived there has been one that has stuck with me my entire life. That has been my journey through the joys of body hair. At times it was barren, but on occasion things got a bit “hairy.”

I used to grow afros all the time. I’m not sure why I loved them so much, but I think it had something to do with Jimi Hendrix, being a modern day hippie, and a desire to fight “the Man.” But when I was a misguided 8th grade revolutionary, I had an issue that held me from fully realizing my dream.

I was highly incapable of growing sideburns.

My afro was pretty sizable at times, but I had not reached that stage of manliness where I was worthy of intense facial hair. I wanted my chops to be just like Jim Kelly from “Enter the Dragon.” I used to pull, and sometimes tape down, parts of my hair so that I could see what I would like with size burns. A fro without chops is like a cell phone without minutes. Get rid of it.

I used to be somewhat of a track star, and had a love for training and getting stronger. But even through my perfection of physical physique I found that the hair was still there. Only in this case it was the absence of hair that I was concerned with. I used to shave my legs so that girls would notice my calve muscles. I thought they were nice and wanted everyone else to think like me. This included one occasion where I sat in the bathroom and applied Nair to my very hairy legs. It smelled like a 4th of July gone awry as the cream burned my manliness. It was altogether uncomfortable, and I will never do that again.

These days the hairs on the back of my hand have started to blossom, and I find it delightfully manly. Even the bits that are starting to appear around my knuckles make me feel a bit more masculine when I shake people’s hands. It’s like an addition to a firm handshake and I subtly desire them to notice the progress of my later puberty.

“Are you not going to compliment my knuckle hair?”

They never do.

But still, no full beard. I have random hairs that have sprouted up on my shoulders, but have seen little progress in the moustache to sideburn connection for a beard burgeoning. As I approach my 23rd birthday, (Sept. 24th ; mark your calendar) I recollect on the achievements of my life. I have no criminal record, a strong spiritual basis, can play a mean guitar, and I served Elton John food when I was a waiter for a catering company.

My life has been pretty amazing so far, but my lack of full “beardage” is like someone throwing a fudge sickle at a bride on her wedding day. It’s very noticeable and she’ll never forget it.