A REAL beard.
Not like this piss-poor stubbly excuse for a beard I've been sporting since I got married (the pre-nup precluded arguments about facial hair). Nope - the stubble that politely tiptoes between the well-maintained borders of my jaw is more the result of not shaving than actively growing a beard.
Now I want something that requires commitment. Grit. Determination. And other manly qualities exhibited by the bold and hirsuite. While the smooth-chinned skeptics would have you believe that the bewhiskered are plain lazy, growing a truly awesome beard requires discipline - the first rule of Beard Club (well, beards.org) is to "commit".
Think of the great beardies throughout history - Jesus, Karl Marx... Kerry King. Not exactly slouches lacking the courage of their convictions, right? Even if you aren't a fan of Joaquim Phoenix's cracked-out cracks at cracker rap (phew), you have to admire the bravery it took to transform himself from this to this.
So, I'm going to grow a proper beard. I may even document it, though I can't hope to compete with the beast that consumed A.J. Jacobs' face/neck during his Year of Living Biblically:
Mr Bingo for the Rick Rubin illustration. Also on my to do list: buy a print)