So. The goatee is progressing swimmingly thanks for asking.

Here is the backstory.

A while ago I decided on a whim that I was going to grow my hair long. Really long.
Im talking ponytail.

Off I set, a millimetre at a time. Encouraging it. Massaging it. Squeeeezing it out. Grey hair extruding from my scalp with the slow satisfaction of some sort of glacial Play-Doh factory.

Until. One evening with me sitting on the floor, Kelly says, “Hey Ian…did you know you have a big bald patch?”

What? No!
I scooted off to the bathroom where some tricky makeup mirror alignments confirmed it. Male pattern baldness….ripe for a comb-over.

I was shattered.
It has been over 20 years since I started shaving my head, and I always assumed that I could sprout a full luxurious pelt of head hair at any time of my choosing.

Just like Sean Connery in Medicine Man (pic here).

But no. Left unattended and my head assumes the identity of George Constanza (pic here).

So after a prolonged grieving process (with repeated visits to the Valley of Denial) there was nothing left to do but commit to some serious beard compensation.

So. The goatee is progressing swimmingly.

The polling thus far is 345 people thinking it makes me look like a creepy old man.
And 3 people (including myself) and one dog thinking it makes me look cool. I love those other three dearly.

The thing is. Once you get some decent follicular momentum in a goatee, it is psychologically challenging to cut it off again.
You must let it run its course to fulminant scragginess and then reassess the situation.

Moreover, the potentialities for future personal grooming follies are endless…. what with dying it different colours and platting and adding pirate beads and whatnot.

Onwards!