Husband no Wookiee, no hair gene

My husband hit a milestone on Valentine’s Day.

He had used the same razor blade for a year. One. Year.

I was at the computer, and he came and offered me his cheek and asked me how it felt.

“Smooth,” I said, wondering why he was asking.

“I haven’t changed the blade in my razor since Valentine’s Day last year,” he said. It was his goal to see how long he could go using one blade. His previous one lasted nine months, he told me. He was worried I would ruin the blade after I borrowed his razor to shave my legs a couple of times.

First of all, who keeps up with when he changed his razor blade, and who can go a year using the same one?

Not most of my hairy relatives.

My brother really needs to shave twice a day so as not to have a 5 o’clock shadow. He was Wookiee-like until he discovered the modern technology of lasers. (For some reason, back hair never makes the top-10 sexiest traits of a man.)

My dad was always like a bear, but he, too, now has a smooth back. (Will he be happy that I shared this with the world? No, he will not.) I’ve only seen him without a beard once in my life. Some men are born to wear beards.

My mother said that when she was pregnant with my brother, her mother expressed concern that he would be born “all haired over.”

I think she was picturing Jo Jo the Dog-Faced Boy.

Following a ski trip to Colorado, my brother has since grown the first real beard I’ve ever seen him with. It’s a good one.

I inherited the hair gene. I remember a certain boy in middle school, a big blond jerk, who shared a desk with me in one class. He looked over at my arms and asked me if I combed them.

My husband’s family members, however, are fairer and less hairy, for the most part. One of our sons takes after my family; one is like his father. My younger son can become full-on mountain man in a week.

The first time I saw my husband really unshaven was after he’d been on a two-week trip to the Boundary Waters in Canada. He got off the plane, and there was this patchy, awful-looking growth on his chin and face. Before he unpacked, he shaved.

There are some realities with his genetic makeup.

He will never participate in No Shave November.

He will never need the Dollar Shave Club.

My husband told his barber he’d like to have a “barber shave” one day. I worry that it would just take all the skin off.

He said he might change the blade this weekend — he hasn’t decided.

I have an idea that could keep him from ever using razor blades again. Two words: Popsicle stick.

Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.

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