I grew up in the bay area of California. My entire life I have wanted to be married to a corduroy wearing, paint splattered, granola-y bearded man. Until I met Freddo. He was perfect in every way. He made me forget about the corduroy, paint and granola-ness that I'd previously longed for. But I couldn't forget about the beard.
Freddo looks good with a little 5 o'clock shadow, so I knew he'd look great with a beard.
However, Freddo was not having it when I put in my request for him to grow out the fuzz... fortunately I don't give up easily... so one evening I filled his belly with the yummiest of dinners and while he was peacefully drifting off to sleep I sweetly asked him to give it a go, to grow out a "birthday beard" for me... And he agreed!
The rules: No shaving from October 9th to November 9th.
Exactly one month of true beardiness.
The rules: No shaving from October 9th to November 9th.
Exactly one month of true beardiness.
And I tell ya... the kicking and screaming... the complaints and mean bristle rubbing against my own little red cheeks was worth it.
While I ended up deciding at the end of the month that I prefer my Freddo to be clean shaven (a girl's cheeks can only take so much!) I was happy to have finally gotten my bearded man. Isn't he a looker?
**Sigh**
Wishing you all a little "birthday beard-y" happiness of your own,
Han
PS. How much do you love the stash? I snapped this as Freddo was shaving everything off... Cracks me up!
