Since I've lost some weight, a few people have asked if I would write a story like the one that recently graced the cover of the Reader. Well, I told them I had a better idea. We've already seen the few episodes where Tyra Banks wore a fat suit (and, her big revelation was that guys didn't look at her as much as when she was, well, Tyra Banks, supermodel; oh, and one guy didn't open a door for her -- wow, life must've been hell that day). And, we see the occasional newscaster do that also.

I thought it would be a bit different, to tell what it's like now, as a man with a beard. Oh you don't think it would be any different? You naive reader, you. It is. Just ask Dusty Hill of ZZ Top. He'll tell you. Better yet, let me tell you.

I'm going to do a three part series in these blogs.

When the beard first started to come in, with a weeks worth of growth, I had to deal with the comments like "Hey Don Johnson, where's Tubbs?" I had another man say "What's wrong? The price of razors get to costly?"

I could tell this wouldn't be easy. I had flashbacks to those commercials that showed a guy using a credit card to scratch across his face, showing how rough it was. Thoughts like this were keeping me up at night. And, when I finally did fall asleep, it was a nightmare. I had a dream that my Norelco had a super long cord, and was chasing me around the house. When it finally had me cornered, I saw that it was no longer plugged in but still coming at me, with those sharp circles spinning. Just before it made contact with my right cheek, I woke up in a cold sweat. I felt my cheek. The hair was still there. And, it made me wonder...if you get a shave in a dream, will you wake up with a smooth face? Will you wake up at all?

I went and grabbed the paper on my front porch. And, the mail. My new drivers license had arrived. I noticed there was a misspelling on my name. It said "Joshua Beard."

Tomorrow, the saga continues....