One of the time-honored rites of passage between fathers and sons is learning the proper techniques of shaving, that morning ritual most males engage in beginning near the time of puberty. Some dads teach their boy[s] with disposable razors and others the electric razor. The process tends to involve many tried and true accessories like the father's preferred shaving cream and the after shave splash of cologne (Aqua Velva or Skin Bracer?)
As a young man with Klinefelter's Syndrome, I missed out on this rite of passage. While my high school-age contemporaries were sharing time in front of the bathroom mirror with dear old dad, I was not. The problem was not a lack of interest; it was a lack of stubble. I had virtually no whiskers to shave!
By my junior year of college, I actually began to develop a few whiskers here and there. However, it wasn't enough to support the act of shaving daily; it was more like once or twice per week. During the second semester of my senior year, I decided not to shave at all -- just to see if I could muster some facial hair by graduation day. On said day, I looked like the average guy who hadn't shaved for a day or two!
It wasn't until I started on testosterone replacement therapy in my early 30s that I began to have a need to shave every day or so. Mind you, even at age 51, I still don't have whisker coverage as much as the average adult male, but I have enjoyed growing a mustache and goatee. A few years ago someone remarked that I looked like a white Malcolm X and I took that as a compliment.
After my recent gallbladder removal surgery, I decided to take it one step further. I wanted to see if I could grow a beard! I ended the experiment yesterday because it became very obvious that a beard is not on my path. So, I'll happily stick with the mustache and goatee!
The lesson I gleaned from my little experiment is to learn to be happy with who we are. There's nothing wrong with trying new things, but such things shouldn't be forced.
As a young man with Klinefelter's Syndrome, I missed out on this rite of passage. While my high school-age contemporaries were sharing time in front of the bathroom mirror with dear old dad, I was not. The problem was not a lack of interest; it was a lack of stubble. I had virtually no whiskers to shave!
By my junior year of college, I actually began to develop a few whiskers here and there. However, it wasn't enough to support the act of shaving daily; it was more like once or twice per week. During the second semester of my senior year, I decided not to shave at all -- just to see if I could muster some facial hair by graduation day. On said day, I looked like the average guy who hadn't shaved for a day or two!
It wasn't until I started on testosterone replacement therapy in my early 30s that I began to have a need to shave every day or so. Mind you, even at age 51, I still don't have whisker coverage as much as the average adult male, but I have enjoyed growing a mustache and goatee. A few years ago someone remarked that I looked like a white Malcolm X and I took that as a compliment.
After my recent gallbladder removal surgery, I decided to take it one step further. I wanted to see if I could grow a beard! I ended the experiment yesterday because it became very obvious that a beard is not on my path. So, I'll happily stick with the mustache and goatee!
The lesson I gleaned from my little experiment is to learn to be happy with who we are. There's nothing wrong with trying new things, but such things shouldn't be forced.
Acceptance of who we are is a very important lesson and to allow things to flow naturally rather than forced.
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