I fell in love with a shmig, or a goatee as some like to call it. I was 19 and it was a thing of manliness. It made him look powerful and made me feel grown up.
As I got older and slightly more responsible the shmig was no longer enough. I wanted more. And so he filled in the gaps. It grew into a short and neat sign of maturity. I was happy with it for many years.
But it was like a drug. Eventually you have to take the next step. Try the hard stuff. So I did. Within weeks it became this long wavy symbol of True Masculinity. I loved it. I bought it oils and moisturisers. I trimmed it and bought it its very own comb. I was complete.
As I got older and slightly more responsible the shmig was no longer enough. I wanted more. And so he filled in the gaps. It grew into a short and neat sign of maturity. I was happy with it for many years.
But it was like a drug. Eventually you have to take the next step. Try the hard stuff. So I did. Within weeks it became this long wavy symbol of True Masculinity. I loved it. I bought it oils and moisturisers. I trimmed it and bought it its very own comb. I was complete.
