Hair today, bald tomorrow.

In Which: Our Hero Laments The Loss Of A New Friend, But Hopes This Loving Tribute Will Help To Lessen The Pain Of An All Too Fleeting Flirt With Face Furniture


Today, in under a minute, I destroyed four months of my life. In one cruel swell, I removed from my person something which has taken week upon week of careful nurture, cultivation, care and loving. Gone. Just like that.

I should reassure you, before you get carried away thinking I may have put effort into anything and made some sort of achievement over the last half a year, for you would be quite wrong, I am talking about my moustache. Yes, that's right, it's gone.

I only really had it out, in full flare for a very short while, but I can tell you for nothing, it was singularly the most annoying thing I have ever had attached to my face. And being the dog that I am I have had a great many annoying things (if we count girls as being synonymous with annoying, which we do) attached to my face over the years. (LIE.)

And then I got a cold, which immediately made it the most disgusting thing ever attached to my face ever. (Same purile comment about girls etc.)

Somehow, surprisingly, I seemed to receive far less stick for it than I expected. Yes, there were a few detractors. My mother mainly. And given as she has an endless capacity to nag anyway, the fact that I had a creepy turd shaped growth straddling my philtrum left me with little hope. And I'm more inclined to get annoyed by constant whinging about my appearance than I am to be egged on by chummy encouragement. But honestly, considering the horrible reputation that moustaches have, there weren't many detractors. I generally had a very favourable reception. Perhaps I just happen to choose friends who are more accepting than most.

I probably should have given it more of a chance, I probably should have documented it more thoroughly. I received so much support from you all over the months, I received so many lovely comments, and for once in my life, I actually had people being jealous of me. Somebody even used the word 'envy' when describing my moustache. But I just couldn't cope with it.

So itchy! And it never went the way I expected it to. I can see why men used to smother their tashes in beeswax, because really lip hair is the most unruly of hairs! It didn't even wander in the same direction on either side - my right tash lobe seemed to curl up whilst my left seemed to cling up under my lip for dear life.

Oh, and the food. If you ever want to lose weight, I urge you to grow a handlebar moustache, because honestly, not one morsel can pass your lips, not one sip of water without you feeling the hanging residual knowledge of gobbling food and the accompanying guilt that it may be stuck to your upper in some way for at least the next hour. Every bite you eat you notice, and the gravitas of every snack, from the glutinous cheesicle to the lonesome shriveled pea is exaggerated tenfold. An acute neurosis overcame me for the last month or so as I could barely speak without having to rush to the lavatories in order to check whether a globule of spittle wasn't hanging awkwardly from my lip-bristle.

Actually, really, most of the above has been a pitiful excuse to myself for the fact that it wasn't rubbish, I did want to keep it, but there is one particular detractor whose opinion I actually care about enough to dispose of it. Apparently kissing someone with a moustache is phenomenally unpleasant...

Not in my experience!

But then I'm more accepting than most.