Hey y'all! Name's Alex Chibante, but my friends call me "Chewie" ( Lame story). If I were to tell you about myself and my personality it would be biased. How you perceive me, for all intents and purposes, is who I am.
I like most games.
Currently a student at the University of New Brunswick
For those of you who don't know french, today's title translates to Beard of Poverty. You may be asking yourself, " Why such a melancholy title?". I find myself asking this too. It turns out there was more to the saga that is my beard. What was supposed to be story of victory has thus far ended in defeat. I haven't given up, though, I haven't given. Still I fight so that one day my whiskered brethren, and I can have equality. Still I fight for acceptance. Prepare to cry, because it's about to get all kinds of depressing up in here.
First picture I got when I searched hobo. Isn't that beard glorious?
As you know I have come to terms with my new beard repulsing the ladies, and ,now the my beard is growing past the "Hollywood" look, it has done that to a certain extent. However to my surprise I was confronted by a young lady who ran a sort of host club near the campus. For those of you who don't know, a host club is a common form of night time entertainment in the lands of the Far East, an idea just arriving to the shores of North America. Customers ( male or female) will come and ask for a host or hostess, respectively Once seated with their host they will go on a sort of pseudo date. The host or hostess provides charm, attention, and possibly affection. Anyways, the young lady had been working in this club going on for a couple years now, but failed to have any male hosts. Her boss, a bizarre old women, ordered her to find some men that would be interested. Thus, for a reason I'm still not sure of, she approached me with the job offer. The pay was meager, but 30% of any purchase made by the customer would go into my pay check as some sort of glorified tip. Although I was probably a last resort choice, I accepted. The next day I was to report to the club for a quick interview, and a brief run-down of my responsibilities.
Look at all those beautiful men... Strange how none have a beard, eh?
I was ecstatic. Someone had thought that I as worthy of a job dependent on looks even though I was sporting a soon-to-be glorious man-beard. That evening I put on my best shirt, and favorite pair of shiny shoes. I was looking like a star, with a beard mind you. I left for the club, with a hop in my step and a twinkle in my eye. As I swung open the doors I entered a place of wonderment. There were roughly 5-6 girls treating men who either weren't the best looking people, or suffered from severe social disorders to drinks, and making them feel loved. " This is perfect for me", I thought, " I get to make people happy". Anyways, I was called to the office for my interview. I was somewhat nervous at this point, but to my joy everything went smoothly. The owner found my up-beat attitude and love for most things refreshing. The job was mine. At least it should have been. As I was shown out the door I heard her make a quick comment to me. A comment that completely killed the buzz. I could still hear it ringing in my head.
" Make sure you shave before you come to work tomorrow"
That makes me feel better
Turns out I was beautiful, but my beard wasn't. Once again I was upstaged by this mysterious thing called beauty. I began to think about this idea of beauty, and wonder if it plagued all the bearded men in history. So I did some research, which took me to the classical period in Greece, where art began to pursue this idea of beauty. The paintings and sculptures created during antiquity were exemplified by the search of this " Ideal", which was most commonly portrayed through the kouros, to my dismay. The kouros are any and all statues of young men. These were meant to be the best of men, both physically and characteristically. One thing the all had in common; no beards. Of all the pictures I saw, not single on of the "ideal young men" had any sign of facial hair. I tried to rationalize, saying that maybe these men were too young to grow facial hair. That wasn't he case. These statues depicted men from the ages of 16-20, and unless you have an extra X chromosome, you're gonna be growing some fuzz.
I'm as sad as that kid
Turns out that I was wrong before. Beards were never beautiful. They never were considered "pretty". Within this cesspool of depression I did find a glimmer of hope, and that glimmer is what kept me from putting a blade to my chin and giving up. These same Greek artists who portrayed these "ideal" men as beardless, also portrayed their Gods with nice long beards! Gods the respected! Gods they loved! Gods they worshiped! Once again I came to terms with the fact that I wouldn't thought of as beautiful, but now I can look forward to the dignity and aura of respect that comes with my beard. To everyone growing a beard, don't give up! We may not be gorgeous, but God dammit we are MEN! ... Also we can look like some sort of Godly high level wizard now! Thuper Exciting!!!!