I mentioned a little in the Halloween post about how much Sarah liked my beard. One of the first conversations we had about it after she got back here went a little like this:
"Why don't you trim your beard a little?"
"Why do I need to trim my beard?"
"Well, for one, it looks un... how do you think it looks?"
"Ferocious. Kind of like a lion. What were you going to say?"
"Unkempt."
"Oh."
"Do you think you could say that it's ferocious instead?"
(This led to multiple jokes about ferocity over the next couple weeks, one of them being the fact that Sarah actually used the word ferocity in conversation.)
Then, I convinced Sarah that I couldn't trim my beard until after Halloween because we all know that lumberjacks don't trim their beards. However, once Sarah returned from Pittsburgh, the day of reckoning had arrived.
(For some reason, Sarah didn't like the fact that when I smiled, my mustache covered part of my teeth.)
(Or that I would occasionally comb out my beard.)
I was, however, able to convince her to cut my hair before I would trim my beard.
After she started, she wanted to take a picture to show how long my hair was.
I don't know how many of you have seen this picture floating around on Facebook, but I definitely felt that way with my beard.
For those of you wondering what my beard looked like from behind.
I then started progressively trimming my beard, taking occasional pictures for your enjoyment.
(I even got Sarah to take a couple of her favorites.)
For those wondering which one was Sarah's favorite, it was this one (above). We almost went and bought something at Walmart when it looked like this, just to fit in.
The first time Sarah kissed me after getting back from Utah.
(Once I had shaved the beard, Sarah changed her opinion of the beard from "unkempt" to "you looked like a hermit." I guess once it was gone she felt she could tell me how she really felt.)
I almost feel like I was on the biggest loser.
And this is all that remains of the ferocious beard.
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