The debilitating itch
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Shaving is one of those things nature forces us to do. Evolution took us quite a long way in terms of restricting where our hair can grow, but ever since we were able to invent something capable of cutting it, we've fought to keep those regions in check. Neither gender is immune. While men probably get the better end of the deal in terms of which regions need maintenance, the shaving battle ensnares us all sooner or later. And once it starts, it doesn't stop. Nature, it seems, is prepared to fight back. In a war of attrition, nature always prospers.
Of course, you could decide against shaving altogether. Nature, however, seems opposed to this too. It programs us to find certain characteristics attractive in a potential mate, thus ensuring the survival of the species. You might tolerate, and even like, the unshaven look but once it becomes a pair of eyes peering through a tangled mess the nights get lonely. Left unchecked, there's also the risk that you'll end up looking like one of those folk who picket motorways and knit their own trousers. Lovely as they may be, the last time that particular aesthetic was considered socially acceptable, meeting your future partner whilst out clubbing usually meant that you'd brought your own club.
I don't like facial hair. I have no problem with other people having it—other men anyway—but I don't want it. It suits other people. Be it designer stubble or even a full beard, other people seem to be able to wear it well. I can't. If I don't shave for a day, I'll have a chin and upper lip full of little dark hairs that itch with a vengeance. Each little tiny one of them will tingle like chicken pox until I'm forced to stop whatever I'm doing to behead them. Once, at a festival, I didn't shave for a whole weekend and I'm pretty sure I now know why people go on shooting sprees.
Despite this, I resent having to shave. I wish I didn't have to. I can get people I've never met to stop sending me emails by clicking a simple unsubscribe link but I can't get my own hair to stop appearing on my face. Instead, I have to allocate time every morning to dragging a razor over my face. It's not a massive hardship in the grand scheme of things, but over time, it's something like a day and a half a year I spend rubbing my chin with the business end of an electric shaver.
Alas, it's not going to stop. At least until I'm too old and infirm to do it myself, I'm going to have to keep shaving every day. If evolution is to continue de-hairing our particular breed of primates, it's highly unlikely I'll see the benefits in my lifetime. Much as I'd like it to, my body isn't going to take a hint. Instead, I'll continue to spend time and money getting rid of the only hair my body produces that I actually like the colour of to keep that debilitating itch at bay.