An Ode to the Chin-Strap

Iconic James: big Chevy truck, sleeveless shirts, tribal tattoos, Bud Light and the chin-strap...

James once vowed to me that I would never, EVER see his naked chin and jawline. He had convinced himself that without the definite border the chin-strap beard provided his neck would immediately annex his face. Like all good women I took this as a challenge; I would be the only one to ever see what lieth beneatheth the chin-strap. I think I pleaded with him for over a year to shave it off, the curiousity was consuming me. What's he hiding under there? I think he has a chin, I mean it looks like he has a chin...could he have lost his chin somehow?? How dare he tell me never, EVER...

Then, all of a sudden, last winter James had a fateful conversation with an electrician working at one of his installs and the chin-strap paid the ultimate price. Almost as quickly as it entered my life, it left and now James has vowed to never, EVER grow another. My man is smokin' hot regardless of facial hair configuration, I just wish I had gotten the chance to say goodbye. I fell in the love with that fantastically manicured beard and I just don't deal well with being told never, EVER...

O' chin-strap, O' chin-strap

I always knew where to find you,

the silver lining of my boyfriend's face

a beacon in the night, a comfort in the light

I know you're still there,

somewhere between the cheek and neck hair.

R.I.P. chin-strap