Advice for Remy, Day 217. Grow a beard, at least once in your life. I distinctly remember being in my late teens or early twenties, cursing having to shave every day. My skin was awful so I cut myself all the time, and it was just such a laborious and annoying routine. I remember wishing that I could have my face hairs lasered so they’d never grow back, and I could be clean shaven forever without ever having to shave. The thought of that now fills me with dread. Not having a beard is something I can’t even contemplate now. Going bald on the top of my head is fine, but if it happened on my face I’d be all over the micro follicle replacement option. Partly it’s the knowledge that without a beard I have more than a passing resemblance to a boiled potato. It hides a multitude of sins (and a multitude of chins) so acts as a useful mask. But, as any bearded person will tell you, it also becomes part of your identity. I remember my dad without a beard, but only vaguely. For most of his life that I can remember he was bearded, and it was one of those characteristics you’d notice about him first of all. If I had to describe him to a police photofit artist, a beard would be the first thing I’d mention. I never thought I’d be a bearded person, and that twenty-something cursing shaving every day would have been shocked to see how my face is adorned right now. But I genuinely wish I’d done it earlier in life, and would recommend it to anyone who’s capable of growing face hair, to make you look less like a root vegetable if nothing else.