Alright so I decided to grow a ringbaard this time around. For those of you unfamiliar with the Dutch language, this can best be translated as a ring-beard. I am not quite sure what the proper English translation is. Everyone in the family thinks it looks terribly ugly, and they will not hesitate to remind me how awful it looks several times a day. Fine, they are entitled to their own beliefs, I can deal with that. As if so much coercion would change my mind. Sticks and stones may break my bones. Personally, I think it looks pretty cool. Really, really cool. The pseudo-chameleon affect of my visage makes me look more distinguished and assertive, smarter, as if I know what I am doing. Could it be that I prefer hiding behind a mask? A mask of facial hair growth and all that kind of stuff. At least that is my perception (not the others). You know, I think I will keep it. Not to bug the others, but because I like it. Mostly because it is time yet again to change my image. Am I trying to kid anyone but myself? I think not. Change is often a refreshing way to reinvigorate your urge to enjoy life again, pretend for a day that you are someone else.
Closeup grubby ringbaard.