I first started growing a beard during my sophomore year of college. I have shaved the beard 4 times, and in each instance the beard was on its way back within a week or two. Whenever the beard comes off, it is safe to say that most people who know me know me are taken aback. I am going to assume for the moment that this is not because my clean-shaven face is particularly hideous (although my wife did once imply that that was the case), but rather that they had developed a picture in their mind’s eye of what I looked like, and removing the beard completely messed with this image.
It was therefore interesting that during one of these brief nonhirsute times about 6 years after beard onset, I happened to visit my mother. I had been greeting friends during this time and had gotten used to hearing “What the hell happened to your face?”, and “Why would you do such a thing?” and “Who swallowed your chin?” I walked in the door and my mother simply greeted me in her usual manner—showering me with praise and 100 dollar bills—without mentioning what I thought was the obvious change in my face. Only after I asked her whether she noticed anything different about me whilst rubbing my bare chin did she recognize that the beard was gone.
What was clear was that my mother had a picture in her mind’s eye of me without a beard. After all, she had gotten used to seeing my unobscured face for the first 19 years of my life, and apparently the relatively recent addition of facial hair didn’t change how she pictured her number one (and favorite) son.
But I digress.
As those of you who follow my Twitter feed or my Friendfeed page have no doubt learned, the earpieces on my eyeglasses broke last week. As it turns out, I have had this pair of glasses for so long that I no longer had a backup pair lying around. Worse yet, my prescription was over 5 years old, which meant that no one would build me a replacement pair without a new eye exam. To make a long story short(er), I was able to take advantage of cancellations during the snow storm on Monday to get an exam, and I picked out my new frames later that day. Unfortunately, because of the antireflective coating on the lenses, which takes 3 days to dry, I won’t get them until Friday afternoon or Saturday.
This meant that I had to effect a repair of the glasses. The difficulty with this is that once I take off my glasses to repair them, I can no longer see well enough to repair them. Not that that stopped me from trying. I’m not sure if you know this, but crazy glue doesn’t work to affix titanium to plastic (although it does a very nice job of ruining the plastic lenses). Luckily, my wife was able to use clear duct tape to attach the earpiece to the lens. Some of you may have seen the result on twitpic. Here’s a full frontal self-portrait taken with the iPhone:
Attractive, n’est-ce pas?
I have been going out in public like this since Saturday. Most of the people close to me have noticed the change and have remarked on it. A couple of snarky comments suggesting that I avoid walking by empty lockers were expected. What was slightly disconcerting was the reaction of people I know less well, for example the colleagues in my building with whom I share elevator rides and small talk in the halls. Not one of them mentioned the eyeglass changes.
There are three possibilities to explain this:
- It could be that they didn’t notice.
- It could be that they noticed but were being polite and chose not to say anything that might embarass me.
- It could be that they perceived the change, but didn’t notice.
Number 1 isn’t likely (did you see the picture?). Only those of you who know these people will appreciate how unlikely Number 2 is. I have therefore come to the disturbing conclusion that in their mind’s eye, they didn’t notice any difference. Apparently, I have a countenance so nerdy that the addition of tape to the corner of my eyeglasses was unremarkable.
Had I known, I could have saved a bundle on new eyeglasses.
I had a similar experience–sort of. Similar in that I was surrounded by people ignoring something obvious.
Many years ago I gave up the practice of going somewhere to get my hair cut, and instead purchased a Wahl sheep-shearer gizmo with which my lovely wife buzzes the fringe of salt and pepper fur that surounds my pate on in a neat horseshoe. This keeps me looking dangerously hip without looking like a hippy.
Despite the obvious convenience of this arrangement–for me anyway-we sometimes have difficulty finding a convenient time for my lovely to perform the hair reduction procedure. For although the amount of hair that resides on my head, is paltry, the mowing process somehow maximizes the coverage to what seems like a statistically impossible area once it is off my head. In other words, a quick buzz has the potential to spread hairlets all over the place–especially places that have the potential to itch if irritated with little bits of hair.
Therefore, we only attempt the procedure under the strictest conditions: just before a shower and preferably within a day or two of a slated cleansing of the salon (our bathroom). Unfortunately these ideal times are also the times we tend to be very tired, and very rushed.
For some reason I cannot fathom my lovely doesn’t relish the opportunity to place a sharp motorized machine near my head, so sometimes the procedure gets put off until, fearing the predatory paparazzi that constantly trail me, I beg her in the harshest of tones to please give me 10 minutes and do the damn job already. So by the time we finally do it, she may not only be tired and busy, but variously distracted, annoyed, resigned and in a hurry.
On one such perfect occasion, I stood hunched , naked, and freezing in the dim light of the tile room, awaiting the 5 minute ordeal of having my head wrenched around and being occasionally poked and praying that my ears would remain intact. She switched on the Wahl and started in at the back of my head, just to the right of my left ear. She took one deft 3″ stroke and screamed. Seems she had forgotten to put on the 1/4 guard (the one that gives me the so popular velvety putting green feel ) and had shaved a 3 x 1-1/2″ swath up the back of my head.
I couldn’t see this in the mirror, no matter which way I turned or how I contorted my head, neck, and eyes. Then everyone else in the house quickly hid all the hand mirrors while we contemplated what to do. We considered a full cranial shave, but opted out because much as my lovely loves to attend to my ravishing dome, she strongly believes its aesthetic quality would be irredeemably compromised were it left fringeless.
So there wasn’t much to do but leave it be and trim around it daily until it faded. So for about 3 days I had a big stripe on the back of my head that I couldn’t see. I was pretty certain though that everyone else with eyes could see it, and would notice it. Yet when I went to work–a school of only 100 kids and 30 staff, all known personally to me–not a soul mentioned it. Not even the 15 or 20 Aspberger types. They had to see it, right?
So, on day 2, lacking much tact or restraint of my own, I started asking others whether they had noticed it. Of course they had, but were too embarrassed or too polite to say anything. They had speculated–minor surgery, a aborted plan to shave my head, a fashion statement, a weird grown-up thing…When I told them the truth we shared a laugh.
So my conclusions:
Don’t overestimate people’s obliviousness.
Don’t underestimate people’s sense of decorum and respect.
Left by David Dannenberg on March 5th, 2009