14 June 2007
Nothing Puts An End To Your Hunting Reverie & Snaps You Back To Reality Faster Than A Shave!
Posted by Darrell under: Rantings Of An Outdoorsman .
Like many hunters, I let my facial hair grow while I’m on a hunting trip. Depending on the length of the trip, I often return with a beard. In some weird mental way, I’ve come to realize that that beard is my tie to the hunt I was just on. Letting my facial hair grow is my way of communing with nature and turning my back on conventional ‘civilization’.
Often, upon my return from a trip, I put off the inevitable shave. As long as I have that beard, I’m directly tied to that trip. Regardless if I’m sitting at my desk or mowing my yard, that beard is a direct link to the trip I recently (and reluctantly) returned from.
My wife, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same respect for my beard. I don’t have to interpret this, she tells me straight out “get rid of that thing!” In fact, usually, her only complaint about one of my trips is my procrastination in ridding myself of the facial hair.
Today was the day I cut my ties to my recent Alaska trip. With great reluctance I drove myself to a barber shop and ordered a hair cut and a shave. Admittedly, there is something ‘alpha’ about ordering a shave with a straight razor. It’s very Louis L’Amour.
Unfortunately, there is something equally disconcerting about having a stranger with a super sharp straight razor at your throat. The amount of contemplating that you are able to do while your life is in someone else’s hands is almost overwhelming. I was able to come to the realization “I hope my wife understands just what I do for her - putting my life in a stranger’s hands, and all”.
It didn’t help that the woman (yes, as in female barber) that gave me my shave had a distorted sense of humor. I’m sure my eyes opened extra wide (I was concentrating on keeping all facial movements to a minimum) when she yelled out to all her peers “Hey, this one’s not much of a bleeder”. I still didn’t move when she said, equally loud, “hun, your a nice one to shave, ’cause your face is so soft.”
“My face is soft? Come on lady, I just spent 2 weeks in Alaska hunting bears with a bow. What do you mean my face is soft?” I didn’t say this, of course (she was holding a straight razor), but I certainly thought it.
Then, when the shave was complete, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror at my soft face. Yeah, NOTHING ends your reverie and snaps you back to reality faster than a shave!
One Comment so far...
Derick Says:
15 June 2007 at 10:28 am.
Haha!! Don’t you just love when people are being scary but they think it’s funny? I’ve never experienced the straight razor before because, frankly, the idea of a stranger with a blade to my neck just creeps me out a bit.
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