The Tonga Beard Experience

When I was in high school, as my smooth-as-a-baby's-bottom-faced friends jealously watched, I grew a beard through sheer force of will. And I never looked back.

Its been a decade since that first face fuzz, and it's suddenly occurred to me - through all the beard variations I've sported, never have I grown the full beard (the neck, face, and mustache, which some might call "the lazy man"). I blame social pressure to not look like a hobo. This style of beard requires a special combination of curiosity, patience, laziness.

But with three months left in my teaching contract in Tonga (in the South Pacific), I could think of no better time to grow a "Robinson Crusoe" before I left the island paradise. Making my location even more ideal for the experiment is the fact that there are no bearded hobos here! In fact, there are hardly any bearded men at all (or unbearded hobos, for that matter). Normally such an experiment would also require an ignorance of social conventions, or a willingness not to cave to social pressure. But I'm lucky enough to find myself in a culture that considers the beard a sign of virility and manliness. Although my cup overfloweth with these qualities already, I decided to risk the chance of overdose and grow a massive beard.

Thus on Friday 4 September, in anticipation of my return to Canada on Tuesday 1 December, I began the Tonga Dan Three Month Beard Experiment.

The blank slate

The experiment was off to a grand start. I shaved my face, to provide a fresh canvas for my hormones to do their thing on. By a week into the experiment, I had already grown what would take many "men" the full three months to accomplish. In fact, just two days after I started and announced the beard experiment, I already began to get comments and compliments.

The comments were usually "isn't your face itchy?" These comments came from women, who (hopefully) had no beard growing experience and instead bowed to the "conventional wisdom" on the subject. On this point, though, they were correct. It was like wearing itchy. I knew this stage would not last forever, though, and just focused on the rewards to get through it.

Compliments typically ran along the lines of "wow, you can grow a beard really FAST!" Now it's not quite the same as "wow, you can run really FAST!" or even "wow, you can eat really FAST!" This is a race that seemingly requires no practice, and can be run at any time (or even all the time). I like to do my hardest beard growing while asleep, but every athlete has their own particular preference.

And they were right, too. I'd probably have to shave twice a day if I ever wanted to be clean shaven. I imagine somewhere way back, there were a whole lot of hairy cavemen in my family tree. The kind who had lots of babies in Siberia thanks to their "super hairy" adaptation. In high school I just stopped fighting it and embraced it as a gift. If you have the ability to grow a ridiculously awesome beard, shouldn't you do so? To not would be like Mr. Fantastic saying "I could turn off the lights with my stretchy arm, but I think I'll just get out of bed and walk to the switch." Madness!

Two and a half weeks into the experiment, my beard was out of control. It was big, and thick, and it was still very itchy. Frankly, I looked like a hobo. And so, one day, after telling a friend that I would "never shave it off!" I shaved it off. If he knew, Mr. Fantastic would slap me with his super stretchy arm.