I’d like to return to one of my favorite topics: hair. Specifically, facial hair.

Throughout high school, I’ve attempted to grow out my beard only twice––both times for a great cause. Both, you see, were playoff beards. Any other time I’ve let the scruff rage for even a few days, I have been mercilessly ridiculed by my sisters, who tell me I look like a moldy peach.

It’s a good thing I have a positive self-image. When I look in the mirror, I can see right past the bald spot under my chin and that missing patch on my left cheek. Less secure individuals might think, “Oh my. I look like I’ve been eating cesium jelly beans––perhaps I ought to shave.” Not me.

Despite my mother’s discouragement and my sisters’ ongoing ridicule, I was determined to participate in “No-Shave November.” For three weeks now, I haven’t even looked at a razor, and I’ve enjoyed every minute––even if those around me are less enthusiastic.

At this point, I’d like to publicly acknowledge Dr. Tift. Despite the scruff, he allowed me to lead a tour of 20 prospective junior high parents for BSM’s Open House Night. Well, truth be told, he probably didn’t know about it––but the parents sure noticed. One even commented on the scruff, saying it looked, “a bit patchy…but at least you’re trying.” That’s the spirit––send that skinny little seventh-grader to us, and we’ll have him sprouting facial hair in no time!

As it is my family’s tradition to take our Christmas card picture during the Thanksgiving break, I apologize in advance to anyone expecting a card from the Lawyer family this year. The fellow who looks like a coyote with a skin condition: that’s me.

But all good things must come to an end, and in a short few days, I will once again sport a face as smooth as a baby’s bottom. But I will have no regrets. My “No-Shave November” will be an event to remember.