As young girls, my sister Belle and I both had bedroom windows that faced a block of flats.
In one of the flats, there lived a man whose only discernible feature was that he had a beard. We rarely saw him but when we did he was doing extraordinary things like closing his blinds and turning on (or off) his lights.
We called him Beard Man.
He became the centrepiece of many of our girlhood conversations. I think we even devised a dance called “The Beard Man Dance”, which involved us pretending to close blinds and turning on (and off) light switches. Good times.
Anyway, I recently discovered how beards have a way of creeping up on a relationship. One day your husband is cleanly shaven and then, next thing you know, he’s stopped shaving all together and you find yourself married to your very own Beard Man.
I told my husband about the Original Beard Man. Upon hearing my (extremely) amusing anecdote (blinds! light switches!!), I asked him to get up and turned on (and off) our light and then close our venetian blinds.
He refused, claiming tiredness. You see, after some 20 years of dabbling in karate, he’d finally got around to being graded and had earnt himself a Red Belt. He said the moment he was presented it was like that scene in Return of the Jedi when Princess Leia gives Luke and Han their medals.
“Except you’re more like the Wookie,” I said. “Anyway, what is a red belt anyway?”
“It’s like a black belt, except very very angry,” he said.
“It makes me think about those early sanitary protection devices – you know, with the belts,” I said.
At this point, he grew angry (very very angry) and said I wasn’t allowed to mock his red belt in my blog. However, I was permitted to write about his beard.
“Have you blogged about my beard yet?” he asked, somewhat hopefully.
“No!” I replied. “Like I have nothing else in my life to talk about… Shuh!”
But actually, between you and me, I’ve been very busy recently. I’ve been hanging out at Kidspot Social as one of their “Hero Bloggers” all week, blogging every day, mixing it up in the forums, sharing my sage advice with new mothers who (quite frankly) deserve better.
Anyway, it’s come to Friday and I’m all talked out. I have nothing left to say for myself. Except about my husband’s beard.
Please don’t tell him you read about it here, okay?
News of the beard not enough for you? Feel free to read my Kidspot posts: