The razor is dead! Long live the razor! I ordered a new razor. In the meantime, I had let my face get scruffy. One of the homesteaders tolerated my scruffiness as long as I didn’t have a razor. The razor, it arrived. The homesteader pooh poohed the idea of any current razor working. Alas, I chose my razor too well. It works. The homesteader, then wanted me to shave off all my scruff.
But I had in the meantime published the photo of me in my full, glorious scruffiness. Adoring fans pleaded for me to keep the scruff. My modeling agency liked the new look. They loved the new contracts it would bring in. However, all these people are far, the homesteader is near. I had a problem. What to do?
I shall descruffify in steps. Today, I shaved the cheeks and the chin. I now sport a rather snappy fu Manchu. Tomorrow, a little bit more will disappear. It’s a bit like inoculating oneself against the plague, a horrible future surely. However, if your body is prepared for such an event, you can proceed with you life. In the same way, we will be able to go on when you have to live our lives without my scruff.
Courage, my friends, we will get through this trying time together. I will still be a supermodel.
Right: Day 1 of descruffication.
(Taken by me. This is why the agency has a photographer.)
Supermodel Paul De Lancey