Fun Fact Friday - The Fastest Growing Hair

You think it's pubes, don't you, dear reader? I'm here to tell you it's not.

Fun fact: Beard hair is the fastest growing human hair!

A handsome, bearded motherfucker.

I know this will come as a surprise to my large audience of impatient, pre-pubescent boys. Give it time, gents! You'll be scruffy soon enough! My beard hair, however, may never grow. It's something I am trying to accept.

But the really fun part of this fun fact will blow your beard clean off and into your spaghetti! A lifelong pogonotrophist (beard-grower/non-shaver) could grow a beard that is up to thirty feet long. I would do so many things with a thirty-foot beard.

Rocking presidential whiskers. And faraway eyes...

Let's for a moment, imagine me as an old lady. With a beard. (Because yeah, I don't need a penis, just a beard.) I'm just walking around town on a blustery day with my beard scarf keeping me warm as toast, when ahead of me, I see a sexy younger man trip. And fall. And slip off an icy bridge into frigid waters below.

Now, I'm old. My lifeguard swimming skills have long since become a thing of legend. But my beard? Strong. Like floss. And maybe you don't think floss is strong, but it is. Try tying someone up with it. You'll see. But back to this sexy man and my sexy beard. So I see this guy, let's call him Henry because the man of my dreams happens to be named Henry, fall off the bridge. I hobble over and throw my beard to bedraggled Henry.

"Sir, grab my beard!" I exclaim as I brace my body against the bridge. Henry struggles through the cold water, slowing all the while, but finally reaches out and takes hold. He climbs up my beard while anxious passersby help to hoist my beard back onto the bridge. When we finally get my shivering Henry over the railing, I swaddle him in my beard. He murmurs a quiet thank you before succumbing to the exhaustion his ordeal just produced.

Now, I know what you're thinking, dear reader. I am planning to live the blissful life of a bearded cat lady. But there comes a time in every cat lady's life where she must herself become a cat of sorts: a cougar. And now I like to imagine you asking, somewhat incredulously, "But Jes? What about your beard? Who would ever fall in love with a much older, bearded woman?"

Besides, of course, my ever-doting cats.

The answer to that, I am pleased to say, is Henry. Henry would.

But he can't. Because my beard hair will probably never grow. And Henry will slip, fall, and plummet into the river. I'll try to save him, but I'm doomed to fail. Then I will return home to my future cats, Roosevelt 1 and Roosevelt 2. I will stroke their fine kitty whiskers and murmur, "If only, if only..."

Happy Beardvember, dear reader.