I spent the day canvassing for a local civic party. I'm pretty sensitive about my moustache. I've noticed people's eyes drawn to it, like you might be drawn to look down at a festering wart. There's this kind of repulsion-but-i-have-to-look thing. Over the past few days, these looks have decreased in number.
I would chock it up to the fact that I am closer to a real, respectable moustache (as respectable as a facial centipede can be - well ALMOST...moustache wax can only take it to that level). It's not peach fuzz anymore. I'm not the 15-year-old trying to buy beer from his friends. I'm a paramedic, or possibly a trans-am enthusiast and devout fan of Lynrd Skynrd. In any case, I'm an adult who has made a choice and stuck with it, despite looking ridiculous.
And that, people, earns you enough respect for people not to assume you're going to rob the liquor store. Well, the last few days this is what I've come to believe...until today.
To the seven year-old child who answered the door today and immediately began to cry:
"I'm sorry. It's temporary. It's like a mask, but more itchy . "
Donate to cancer research people. Do it for the children.