My Own Private Comb-Over

Yesterday I shaved off my sideburns.

Yes, this, seemingly small statement is actually big enough to warrant it's own paragraph break. Even another one.

For this occurrence has only taken place two or three times since, um, the end of puberty. Barely more frequently than Haley's Comet appears.

Why the sideburns? The answer is complex, but may be explained in this two-fold way:

1) I've always wanted to look like Morrissey
2) I look about 12 without them

So why this sudden sideburn removal? Last week I did something crazy and actually paid for a haircut, and the barber guy cut the sides a bit short, resulting in this:

See that silly little gap where the beard hair doesn't grow very well? That is the problem. As my wife (unkindly) pointed out, nobody would ever notice that except for me, but I don't think women understand the complexities of beard hair, or about how men are prone to scrutinize each others', or lack there of.

So I had to do away with them for the time being, for prides' sake. You can't ridicule what is not there.

But, you know, this traumatic episode brought a disturbing realisation to my mind. I tend to grow this small portion of hair a little longer to disguise the gap. And, as we all know, there is a name for this.

A comb-over.