I, like most of the world, greeted the news of Justin Bieber and Hailey Baldwin's recent engagement with a heavy dose of skepticism. After all, it had only been a few weeks since the pair had rekindled their relationship (and only months after Bieber had revisited his on-again, off-again romance with Selena Gomez). But, hey, Britney Spears got hitched in Las Vegas, and Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson had barely learned each other's last names when he decided to propose. "Let them live!" I said to no one. "They should be free to do as they please!" Except, that is, when it comes to Bieber's mustache.
After the 24-year-old pop singer confirmed his engagement to Baldwin with a long, sentimental Instagram post, his former road manager and swagger coach (yes, this is a thing) congratulated the couple and even suggested a beauty look for Bieber for his big day. "Grow the mustache back for the wedding," he wrote in the comments. Quickly, the future Mrs. Bieber stepped in: "Don't you dare give him that idea you lunatic."
Hailey Baldwin and I have nothing in common. She is a model; I am not. She is the daughter of a Baldwin brother; I am not. She thinks it's rational to marry your world-famous, womanizing ex after dating him for a couple of weeks; I do not. But there is one thing we agree on, and it's our shared views on men's facial hair.
When I first started dating my husband, he wore a closely shaved beard that I adored. I thought it hid his baby face and made him look more sophisticated. Then the year after we tied the knot, long, bushy beards, (think: The Guy in High Maintenance) became a thing in New York City—seemingly every dude was growing one out—and before I knew it, I was married to a guy who from the neck up looked like a cast member from Duck Dynasty.
I spent years—years!—trying to make the beard go away. I tried every strategy in the book. First, I asked nicely if he could trim it down, which went nowhere. "I don't tell you how to cut your hair," was his logic. Then, I tried belittling the beard away, comparing my husband to a number of unflattering characters including Fidel Castro (which did not go down well during dinner with his Cuban grandmother). I staged a revolt and refused to shave all parts of my own body until he shaved his beard. This didn't faze him at all, and a few weeks in, I was the one who couldn't take it anymore and caved.
One Christmas, my father gave him a beard trimmer as a present, which he never took out of the box. Another time, we were about to board a flight when he was stopped by a police officer and was asked "a few routine questions." Nevertheless, even after the beard had been profiled, it persisted.
When I was nine months pregnant and about to go into labor, I asked my husband if he would possibly consider shaving his beard before our daughter was born. "It would be nice if she could actually see your face when she first comes into the world," I argued half-heartedly, knowing that even the birth of his first child might not move him. Hours after excruciating contractions, I finally got an epidural and relaxed enough to notice that he had quietly slipped out for a moment and trimmed several inches off for the occasion. Victory at last.
So, Hailey, here's my suggestion for you: If you eventually do go through with this, a prenup will all but surely come up. I recommend you make sure to include a facial hair provision in writing. Remember, you're marrying the man, not the mustache.
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