My prolific husband is being devilishly rambunctious today with his words so I invited him to be a guest blogger.

He recently penned a charming article after publishing  his 13th book.

I just had to share. Enjoy!

I didn’t decide to grow a beard.

The beard showed up one day, updated my LinkedIn profile, and filed the paperwork.

It started as curiosity. Then hubris. Then denial.

Could I still grow one? Would it fill in? Would it publicly betray me?

Phase One: False Confidence

You begin optimistic. Rugged, even.

Then patchiness appears, random bald zones suggesting your beard is a startup still seeking full funding. One side scaling. The other “monitoring market conditions.”

Phase Two: The Itch

No one warns you about this.

The itch is biblical. You scratch while questioning your choices, your mirror, and your past. Suddenly you own beard oil, beard balm, and something called a conditioning serum. Congratulations, you’re high-maintenance by accident.

Phase Three: Maintenance

An untrimmed beard is not “distinguished.”

It’s just evidence no one intervened.

Keeping it tight requires discipline, geometry, and careful negotiations with your barber:

“Don’t make me look like I podcast from a cabin.”

“But also don’t make me look like I’m trying too hard.”

Phase Four: The Color Reveal

It’s not white.

It’s grey.

Intentional.  Executive.

The kind of grey that suggests you’ve sat through long meetings, don’t interrupt, and don’t need to raise your voice in negotiations because you don’t have to.

Teenagers now grow fully optimized facial hair. Mine needed time, coaching, and several performance reviews. Fashion cycles. Beards endure.

So why did I grow one?

Because aging happens.

Because curiosity wins.

And because if you’re going to go grey…you might as well let it do some of the negotiating.