And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the problem. I am 20 years old and my "manly" beard looks like a bad haircut-victimized squirrel. At 14 I thought all would be well and the ability to form dashing sideburns or a chic goatee would be within my growing grasp. But instead, I am plagued with mere patchy spider legs growing forth from my face. I find myself envious of other fellows with their notable beards. I think my friend, David, was sporting substantial facial hair in the ninth grade.

It's not like I am lacking in hair altogether either. My head holds an abundant mane of thick locks-locks I've care for very dearly since I was 10. My eyebrows are like two bloated caterpillars that are just dying to spin cocoons and take the journey of metamorphosis. My eyelashes reach out gently and broadly like the boughs of a willow tree. My legs exhibit a forested pelt that prevents even the most foolish mosquito from attacking. Even my feet have a coat of Hobbit-like hair. My tummy is a charming furry circle that delicately collects lint for me to find later. My armpits-err, well I'm sure no one really cares about all that.

I wouldn't call myself a human ape, like my friend and suitemate, Brian, but I do consider myself on and slightly above average in overall body hair. Perhaps with time and patience my beard will gain courage and burst forth with virile power. Until then I will have to love and accept my body for what it is. And that leads me to the moral of all this: you are all beautiful people so don't develop an eating disorder or buy shirts that have "sexy" glittered onto the front-that only leads to trouble. Blackbeard (the pirate) rocks!