We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers.
Here is another fear that started in too-early childhood. There are many stories about toddler-me pretending to be asleep or dead if there was a man with a beard in the vicinity – even my own family members! One time, my dad’s bearded coworker, who claimed that children always liked him, picked me up when I was around two years old. I shrieked nonstop and grabbed onto his awful beard and would not let go. It took both of my parents to pry me off of his face, and I was so upset and exhausted that I had to go to sleep. He had bald spots on his cheeks where I tore out his beard, and from that day onward, was always clean-shaven – he said he used the best double-edge razor blades so that his beard does not grow out for a couple of months. My first act of righting the world’s wrongs.
I no longer fear the bearded as openly as I once did, but I still do not like them. It doesn’t help that if someone has a beard, I can’t recognize them. All I see is beard and some eyes hovering above it. Beards feel gross to the touch, like they are made of centipede legs. I can’t help but suspect a bearded man is up to no good, hiding his identity, or worse, as I decided to depict in the comic today. Maybe a normal human face is shrouded in that beard, but I can’t be sure and I’m not about to risk it.
Sorry, all of my friends with beards. I know you must like your facial hair, but it is true. I’m a little more uneasy around you compared to when you are beardless.