Did mention I don’t shave anymore, not until make appearance starts to bother me? Staying clean-shaven was hard enough, before The Pandemic (that’s how we’ll say it to future generations). But, I had the judging glances of other people to rein in my natural laziness and I usually picked up a razor at least once a weak. I can’t grow a full beard, just a respectable enough goatee, which is fully hidden by a face mask every day now, outdoors some of the time and indoors always: at work, the store, anywhere.
I wear one all day at work and it has completely eliminated to need to shave. No artful pruning and shaping, no careful evaluation of my appearance every morning. Nothing that happens beneath my nose is important. For now.
Most people at the university don’t see my face all day. I take my face mask off outdoors, to catch a clean, unfiltered breath, occasionally. If I wanted to, though, I could wear it all day, indoors and out, until This Thing is over.
No one cares, either. They don’t want to see my face. They want to see me wearing a clean face mask, with freshly washed hands that reek of sanitizer.
So, I don’t shave anymore. It took me a while to realize it. I would take off my face mask in the bathroom at work to wash my face or something and be accosted by the wildness of my goatee, untrimmed and uncombed and altogether unfit for the workplace and wonder when it had gotten that way, and why, and why I hadn’t noticed.
I don’t have to shave. So , I have just forgotten about it.
It’s refreshing, actually, and kind of nice. The reprieve.
Not every change has been horrible.