Mr. Razor Awaits

It’s back to work this morning. Which means I have to shave. My face, I might add. After a glorious bank holiday weekend in the realm of scruffy stubbledom, it’s back to reality with a resounding thump. Mr. Razor has an appointment with me in the bathroom, the second I stop writing this blog and shuffle off to meet him, like a condemned man making the long walk to the gallows.

Being a BIG BOSS now, I have to present at least a veneer of respectability to my adoring team as I go about my daily business. This entails wearing a business suit and tie, shiny shoes and shaving. It doesn’t impact upon my performance in the slightest but is expected of one who has risen to my lofty position within the organisation. Thankfully, no bowler hat or copy of the Financial Times. Yet.

Fionnuala is no fan of the stubble although she did allow me to go two weeks without shaving a few Christmases ago. I was quite impressed with the results, her less so. I do ‘good beard’ and am now of an age where my chin furniture is of a silvery glow. I like to think I resemble a young Clooney. George, not Rosemary, that is. In my minds eye I’m a silver fox, as opposed to a manky old tramp.

Our Adam is now of an age where he has challenged me to a beard growing contest in the summer. Although I suspect his would blow away in the face of a moderate breeze. In these parts, we call it ‘bum fluff.’ Those who are easily offended may wish to look away at this stage of the post. He talks now of shaving, tattoos and learning to drive. What happened to our baby boy?

El beard is, of course, poor laziness on my part. Shaving every day is such a chore. I know you woman have childbirth and everything but really? Shaving and man flu. It’s tough being a male of the species. Please read the previous sentences in a heavily sarcastic tone of voice. Although I have my lawyers on speed dial, just in case. Oh that’s right, I don’t have any lawyers. I don’t even have a lawyer.

It’s all just part of my ingrained desire to hide away, of course. When I’m unshaven and wearing my customary hat, I can glide anonymously through life, without acquiring a second glance. Clean shaven, suited and booted, I feel horribly exposed, just waiting for those around me to point and exclaim ‘Look at him. He’s nothing but a big, fat fraud.’ The voice in my head never fails to disappoint.

But, play the game I must. There are bills to pay and mouths to feed. My office awaits and, within it, a team requiring direction and leadership. So I’ll shave the stubble off, don my work suit and wait for the train along with all the other middle aged business types who share my daily commute to and from Belfast. I wonder if they all feel like I do. Maybe one day I’ll ask. Set up a support group, or something.

I’ve a feeling this could be a big month. A game changer in many ways. Don’t ask me why, I just do. But until that happens, Beardy McBeardFace will have to grin and bear it. Mr. Razor awaits. Is this how Marie Antoinette felt as she faced Monsieur Guillotine? Time will tell. But let’s hope there are better days just around the corner. The world needs more George Clooney lookalikes. I know I do.

Published by Fractured Faith Blog

We are Stephen and Fionnuala and this is our story. We live in Northern Ireland, have been married for 15 years and have three kids - Adam, Hannah and Rebecca. We hope that our story will inspire and encourage others. We have walked a rocky road yet here we are today, together and stronger than ever. We are far from perfect and our faith has been battered and bruised. But an untested faith is a pointless faith. Just as a fractured faith is better than none at all. We hope you enjoy the blog.

29 thoughts on “Mr. Razor Awaits

  1. Ah yes, Mr Razor… Another advantage of retirement, (sorry, I don’t mean to rub that in). Though, having had a moustache since I was 18*, I only ever had 7/8ths of my face to shave, (which is infinitely preferable to other areas of the body that women seem to deal with!)
    *I was always self-conscious of a large mole on my upper lip, so the ‘tache was grown to hide it. And then Magnum (the PI variety, not the choc ice) became a big hit, so it helped with the look at the time. Obviously since, they have been in and out of fashion (thank goodness for Movember) and I’ve resembled a 70’s porn star (though I guess there are worse comparisons). I’ve thought about adding the beard, but I’m not sure it would look right. And I do wonder how those people with the stubble look keep it as stubble? Do they take something to stop the growth? One of life’s mysteries!

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  2. Oh churros what a lovely idea. I may have to get myself some tomorrow, thank you for that Chelsea!

    And Stephen women have to shave too, you know – as a lady of ‘a certain age’ there’s a spot on my chin I always have to remember to deal with before going out …

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  3. Chin furniture! That’s a new to me and I love it! On to the more serious topic of feeling a fraud with a business suit, I can most certainly relate. Out of respect for the office of preacher, I was taught to always wear shirt and tie (and pants!) whenever in the pulpit. There have been times, when looking over the faces looking at me, that have wondered if they have any idea what this nice suit is covering up. What can I, with my past and current darknesses just under the surface, possibly say that could have a positive impact on these folks.
    Chasing this thought a little further, standing in my kitchen in my sweats, what is really different here? The answer is nothing. Much as ‘clothes don’t make the man,’ neither do they truly cover up what he is. Thought provoking posts such as this one, Steven, help me to remember my commitment to living life transparently for when I do, it makes no difference what is on the outside, because what is inside has no need for cover.
    Blessings to you and yours,
    Chuck

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  4. I reached that point long ago at my previous job. I gave so much to my unit and my coworkers. My firing (which had zero to do with my nursing skills but a post in our closed private coworker group that someone screen shot and sent straight to HR) has been a devastating loss to my unit. Because the person that did it will not own up everyone is blaming and suspicious of each other. I prayed in church on Sunday for God to heal them. I think they have it far worse than I do. I applied for a voluntary camp nurse position for kids whose parents have cancer. I was given the job on the spot pending background check. Because this camp starts on the day my nephew was born and died six hours later (and why I left the burn unit and went to women’s health) I am convinced something big is in store for me. If I could just get through this grieving process I would be so so happy. Patience is not my strong suit.

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  5. Once upon a time, I had a full beard. Wore it that way for years. Then I trimmed it back to the more modest “Tony Stark” cut I’ve worn for twenty plus years now. Last year I decided to go back to a full beard. One morning I get up, look in the mirror, and went, “Oh, my.” Most of my facial hair had turned white in the twenty years since I had a full beard. I looked like a skinny Santa Claus!

    I’m back to the trimmed back version.

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  6. When we first got together, my current husband used to trek upstairs to the bathroom every morning with boiling water to mow his stubble; an electric shaver didn’t do the job. If we were going out in the evening he’d have to tackle it again.
    I’ve never been enamoured of beards, but I took pity on him and suggested he grow one.
    Probably not the best of my ideas: I’ll give you three guesses who gets to trim it every week, although he still has to shave his neck in between (when I remind him).
    The beard suits him though and goes some way to hiding the ravages of time as jowls droop and cheeks cave in.

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  7. This post sparked a thought for a possible future subject for you, if I may. Your reflections on the new expectations that are part of being a BIG BOSS made me wonder: how has your new position changed the dynamics of your relationships with your co-workers, if at all? Or should it? Inquiring minds want to know…

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  8. NN bb NJ bb h HB be

    On Mon, May 6, 2019, 10:16 PM Fractured Faith Blog wrote:

    > Fractured Faith Blog posted: “It’s back to work this morning. Which means > I have to shave. My face, I might add. After a glorious bank holiday > weekend in the realm of scruffy stubbledom, it’s back to reality with a > resounding thump. Mr. Razor has an appointment with me in the bathroom” >

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Love it! My husband was a maverick. He was a musician who went into finance to make a real living. Like you, he had to shave his full beard and wear a suit. By the time he was close to retirement age he “forgot” the jacket and tie many days. His face stayed clean shaven though (most days) cuz Mommy liked it that way.

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