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What I Do For My Children

This week, I am growing a beard.

I am growing a beard because my children asked me to. They wanted to see what it looks like. They have asked every night for nearly a month.

Usually I shave my face. Shaving lives in that perfect groove of simultaneously making me feel more masculine and more socially acceptable in appearance. I love shaving. I don't do it every day, though, both because I don't need to and I have sensitive skin -- and at some point my children noticed that I felt more bristly when I kissed them goodnight than on other nights.

I ended up explaining about shaving in as ungendered a way as possible -- Daddy shaves, and Uncle Bear Daddy shaves, and Mommy shaves, and some people don't have to shave, blah blah blah. And there it lay for a while. Until a few weeks ago, at least.

I think the 'beard,' such as it is, is going away tomorrow morning, because while I felt like I could get away with my scruff at Dolores Park today, I'm not so confident of getting through the kid's birthday party I'm scheduled for tomorrow. Then again, the lighting is low...

I told G. today, "I kinda want to tell everyone, 'I'm not transitioning, I'm just hairy.'" And now I guess I have.


I am so hairy. I shave every damned day almost and you can really tell when I don't. And everybody knows it because I cut myself shaving and because kids can see the follicles and feel the two o'clock shadow.

It's annoying because I hate messing around with my appearance anyway and I don't feel like I could just ignore it. I'm so non-standard in so many ways already.

I finally started shaving my armpits and upper arms too, because something happened to me temperature regulation and suddenly I want to wear sleeveless shirts sometimes.
When I'm on the prednisalone I get *much* hairier than normal. My head hair also gets much thicker - my hairdresser loves it.