For as long as I can remember, my Dad has had a full beard. Each winter, he grows it out for his Santa Claus costume, where you can stick a finger through it and never touch his face. I honestly have never understood the attraction with beards, unless you are overweight and you can hide how fat your face is. That being said, this is not the first time that I’ve had a beard. Back in 2002, I went to Europe with my brother, Arik and my little sister, Heather. For five weeks, we had an itinerary that looked like this: Days one and two, Madrid. Final Day, Madrid. Besides that, we had no concrete plans of which cities/countries to visit, or how long we would stay.
At some point during this trip, I lost my razor. I decided that I wouldn’t buy another one, thus came a beard. Shortly after I returned to the United States, I started to date my wife. At the time, she told me that she liked my beard. It wasn’t until later that I found out that she liked it because it hid my double chin.