I feel like Thomas Jefferson would have felt if he had to move to Canada after writing the Declaration of Independence. I’m a Founding Father of No Shave November, yet I cannot completely see it through. Halfway through the month, I must concede.

Financial needs have forced me to work seasonally at UPS, a company that does not allow its employees to have facial hair. With my orientation tomorrow morning, I shaved my beard this afternoon. It was one of my darkest moments in recent memory because it effectively made this the first time in No Shave November’s four year history that I will be unable to go the entire month.

I want it to be clear that although I cannot be victorious this time around, I will be back next year. Over the next 350 days, I will train my beard to grow in thicker and fuller than it ever has before. I’ll experiment with new patterns like a goatee.

A fu man chu.

And whatever this is.

Until then, I’ll suffer through life with a cherubic and hairless face, unless I decide to go with UPS’ one facial hair option: the mustache.

But I won’t put the world through that disgusting display. I’ll just weep over what I once had and is now lost.

Game over.