It came about because Johnny got a new job, and new jobs mean changes. (Not only did he get one new job, but two! We found out that he's being transferred to the middle-man office of the newspaper conglomerate we work for, where he'll be doing IT support rather than layout and production. That's great and exciting! But then...)
He got a call on Saturday to come in for an interview at our local Ingles for some weekend work in the deli. They liked him (who wouldn't?) and it looked like he'd be making an extra $80 each week. Hooray! But then, the bad news -- all Ingles employees must be clean-shaven.
We stared at the electric razors for half an hour in Walmart on Saturday night as he decided whether or not to take the plunge. One really nice self-cleaning electric razor and some aftershave went in the cart, and he was all set -- if he decided to go through with it.
I loved Johnny's beard. It's been one of my favorite physical things about him ever since I first laid eyes on him at the newspaper (in high school, he was beard-less, but that was so long ago my memories are fuzzy). It's one of Johnny's favorite physical traits, too -- he was dang proud of that beard. He aspired to rock a beard like Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top one day.
But alas, his dream was shattered on Monday night, when he took the plunge and shaved it off.
I don't think either of us are quite used to it yet. He wouldn't even let me kiss him until this morning. I'm supporting him either way, whether he keeps it shaved and keeps working the deli job or whether he ends up deciding one 40-hours-a-week, hour-long-commute job is enough and lets it grow back. But I can't help but miss it, at least a little.
Oh beard... someday I'll see you again. I hope you'll join us for the wedding. I'll send you an invitation.
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