Today is the last day of November. 30 days ago I started growing this stubbly thing above my upper lipped called a moustache. It has evolved into a full, hairy, half-grey handle bar of prickly facial fuzz. As annoying as it is to me it’s garnered some respect from a few savvy people in my life so I guess it can’t be all that bad.
A cool kitten from work and fellow writer Yamuna (https://www.yamunaflaherty.com) conversed with me yesterweek about the tickle ‘stache. She claimed it gave me a sort of electric masculinity and she might not be all that wrong. Being referred to as electrically masculine evokes a missed sense of self-confidence but over a moustache? Kind of uncanny. But I’ll take it.
What if the key to unlocking the next season of my life is this follicle fiend growing south of my nose? Will women flock to it, I mean me, whilst bearing it? Will it land me the attention of movie execs and kick off my leading man career on the silver screen? Will it thrust me into being the face of covid.. “the ‘stache behind the mask”? Or will it merely soak up liquids and store lunch crumbs?
Whatever its capacity the lil’ guy is kinda fun having around. I stroke it. I comb it. I shampoo it. I’ve had it trimmed. I take it for walks and I read it bedtime stories. It’s met most of my friends and it’s familiar with the present state of the world. The other night it woke me up, shivering and scared. Fact is it had a nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep. After trying what seemed like everything I played “Dude looks like a lady” on my guitar and within a minute it was purring off to slumberland.
9 nine years ago I grew out its younger brother as you can see here. It wasn’t as welcome back then but maybe it had a meaner agenda then the current facial inhabitant. Whatever the case I was most excited to pluck him out, one hair at a time. This time around I may keep the gentle sweetheart, at least a few days into next month. He’s not hurting anyone I don’t think anyway.