A friend recently warned that there were combat pitfalls to the full beard. There is that one yawning chasm, the grab of the gutter gnome by the bigger beasts of men. Yes, this would be horrible, to be yanked around by my face while I stabbed the big ape’s guts out. But, you see, I already had made that social calculation, that since I do not agree to fight, that any young fellow forcing this activity upon me would accompany me to Hell’s brazen door.

Are their any more disadvantages to the full beard?

Yes:

Zipping it up in your hoody and not being able to turn your head.

Getting it caught under the shoulder strap of the rucksack and not being able to turn or raise your head.

Having your prodigiously endowed lady pin the beard under one breast so that—oh, that grapple was not being judged, so I didn’t need the reversal and was fine with riding out her ground and pound win from the closed guard…

I have not experienced other combat disadvantages…

Well, I suppose I have:

“Oh, Poppy,” coos SaySay as she pets the silver beard in Oakland, “you love me long time en me so poor…”

Direct hit in the wallet.

“Oh, Poppy,” draws Megan as she pets the Santa beard in East Baltimore, “this broke-ass bitch is out of Vodka and Cowboy Killers…”

Direct hit in the wallet.

“So glad to see you back, Handsome,” soothes Dove as she pets the beard for good luck against the Leprechaun on the Pot of Gold slot machine in Felony Flats Portland, “thanks for keeping your word and not trimming your beard,” and the barmaid brings me the bar tab and winks, “you pay for both together, Jimz?”

Direct hit to the wallet by way of the ego…

“Oh, Poppy, you sooo strong!” snarls the Dominic psychoslut in G-String, New Jersey as she blows purple smoke in the beard and yanks on the 3-speed gear shift below my belt, “I need $20 for my hookah.”

You get the idea, the full white beard, brings out the kid on Saint Nick’s lap instinct within the female mind, and I’m not rich enough to finance the cuddly critters designed by God to keep me poor.

As for physical combat with men and crooks.

Taking punches to the chin with a full beard is much easier then with shaven chin. I used to scoff at the pro boxing restrictions on beard length until I experienced the boon of a padded chin.

Stick and blade sparring and fighting in a fencing mask works better with a full beard as the squirrel’s nest keeps the mask from spinning across the face on hard rotational blows and cushions the shock of chin stabs.

The most important combat aspect of the beard I have not experienced. But, a friend of Big Ron was saved by his under beard. The beard that grows from your neck is important here, and not shaving the neck saves you lots of ingrown hairs and irritation. Seven Sacred Citizens of a Chocolate Hue attacked this big bearded man behind the Hubcap bar. He was having a good old time chucking these skinnies around and even stomping one, when one jumped on his back and slashed his throat, the blade turning on his beard and not opening his throat, just shaving.

The most value I gain from the beard in day to day life is:

Not having to spend time shaving my face.

Keeping me warm in the Pacific Northwest.

Preventing rain water from running down my shirt.

I oil the beard so it sheds rain and makes it easier to comb snow off.

I trim the beard just below the collar to keep it from getting caught in my hoody zipper and to provide a shorter handle for those violent actors so inclined to trample the patriarchy, while keeping it lush enough to provide makeshift mammary support for this sweet things inclined to sample the patriarchy.

It has been a worthwhile experiment.

…

Final Note

Church lady types inclined to boss men around do not like full beards, while savage tribeswomen and service oriented babes more to my liking prefer the lack of domestication implicit in the piratical beard.