Archer*, the young man who tends my parents’ garden has a lush, thick beard. The kind of beard you’d find on Santa if Father Christmas was a ginger. Sometimes when I’m home my parents will ask me to bring him some ice water or I’ll offer him a cup of coffee in the morning. It was this kind of interaction which led to the following conversation.
The Great Unwashed hands Archer a glass of ice water. Archer puts down the pruning shears and happily accepts it. As he’s sipping the liquid The Great Unwashed decides to fill the silence and finally says what’s on her mind.
The Great Unwashed– “You have a really great beard.”
Archer swallows and says “Thank you.” Then takes another sip.
The Great Unwashed– “I wish I could grow a beard like that.”
Archer coughs and looks surprised.
The Great Unwashed wistfully to herself –“Maybe when I’m older.”
As women age they produce less estrogen leading to the growth of facial hair. My mother spent her teen years working in a nursing home. If her stories are true; ninety percent of elderly care is female mustache removal and the other ten percent is bathing people with faded tattoos. There’s hope for me yet.
*As Archer has yet to accept another beverage from me following this exchange I felt that it was best to change his name.