By LEE PITTS
It's the Pitts 

I’m glad to see that men are growing more beards, mustaches and sideburns because growing facial hair is one of the few things left in this world that women can’t do. At least most women.

With the sissification of our society, I find it refreshing that hairy men are saying, "By gosh, I’m a man and I will grow a ‘Duck Dynasty’ beard, soup strainer or a cookie duster if I want to. I’ll leave my bed unmade, watch ‘SportsCenter,’ ride shotgun without telling the driver how to drive, leave the lid up, go the restroom without a support group and take my shirt off on a hot day if I want to – and I dare you women to do likewise."

Having said that, you may have noticed I’m clean-shaven. My face is as smooth as a baby’s bottom, although not as stinky.

Some have even suggested I wear a sign on my head that says, "This side up."

There are reasons why I shave. It’s proper hygiene and I don’t go around with dried meringue, whipped cream or yesterday’s lunch in my mustache. Just because I don’t have a mustache, do not assume I still live with my mother, carry a man-purse, watch chick-flicks while I lay in a bubble bath with rose petals where I sip herbal tea and listen to a tape of ocean waves.

I assure you, I do not go to baby showers or wax my legs. I still control the remote in my house (when my wife’s not home). It’s just that I’m fuzzy-faced. I can grow hair all right ... it’s just in all the wrong places. On top my head, not so much, but you should see the hair that grows out of my nose and ears.

I’ve even toyed with the concept of training my nose hairs into a mustache and my ear hairs into mutton chops.

My lack of facial hair pains me greatly. Going all the way back to Mark Twain humorists have always had mustachios. Maybe it explains why I’m not a good entertainer or a cowboy poet who can twirl the ends of his waxed mustache.

I was invited once to be in a celebrity beard growing contest but all I got was a "participation" ribbon. They couldn’t find my "beard" with the aid of a magnifying glass.

My problem with shaving has to do with the fact that I’m legally blind in 12 states. And I can’t wear my glasses while shaving, because they fog up. When I get a haircut and the barber asks if I like his work, I lie because I can’t see the mirror 3 feet away. If he cut half an ear off I’d say, "Sure, great job. Nice haircut."

When I’m done shaving, one sideburn is invariably 2 inches higher than the other, my lip is split and I have two dozen little pieces of TP on my face to stop the flow of blood before I bleed out. If you think it’s funny, just try shaving with your eyes closed and you’ll see what I have to contend with. With all the moles, warts and other speed bumps on my face it’s like trying to plow around a stump.

I’m sensitive about my suboptimal facial hair because that’s how we measure manliness these days. Just watch an NFL game and you’ll see none of the participants shaved recently to scare the foe – and here I am with a fuzzy face. But I swear, I’ve worked in the oilfields, was a cowboy, got in my share of fights in school, wrestled, boxed and have eaten at the counter with striking longshoreman.

I’m a lunch-bucket type of guy. I just can’t grow hair where I need to. Believe me, I’d like to not shave but when I go without shaving for two weeks, I end up looking like a homeless old prospector.

Alas, I cannot tell a lie. The primary reason I’d like to grow a beard is the high cost of razor blades. Have you seen how expensive they are? I could stoop to using those cheap, pink throwaway razors that women use to shave their legs – but that would kind of defeat the whole purpose of me trying to prove I’m a man’s man, now wouldn’t it?

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers may log on to www.LeePittsbooks.com to order any of Lee Pitts’ books. Those with questions or comments for Lee may write to him in care of this publication.