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Day 11

I have often wondered what possesses a man to grow a mustache or any sort of purposeful facial hair. I should note that what I mean by “purposeful” is facial hair that requires care and shaving and all of that. A full, Grizzly Adams-like beard is not truly purposeful. On the other hand, in most cases, said beard involves forethought; very few people just happen to grow a big, old beard.

That said, I am now wondering if a mustache is like some running joke that a person eventually grows into. In other words, a man—of any age—decides he will grow a mustache for kicks. He does so, and for a few weeks it’s pretty funny. After all, in the words of H. Boggs, “Everything is funny with a mustache.” Then, so many weeks go by, and he becomes used to the mustache. He begins to like it. He begins to think he looks dashing. After a few months, he can’t imagine himself without it. By then, perhaps the people in his life have rotated a bit and some people have never seen him without the ‘stache. By that point, the facial hair has become bigger than the man. Is that acceptable? Can I live with that sort of life?

Day 10

Yesterday, I—or more appropriately, my mustache—was attacked by a jealous and vengeful mulberry tree (or it might have been the raspberry bush). We were out picking mulberries and raspberries. It is a somewhat random mulberry tree under which is a somewhat random raspberry bush. The mulberries are fully ripe and the raspberries are just beginning to come around. We noticed the tree coming back from walking the Puppy, and we decided that we would pick up a good bunch of them and freeze them for the winter. We later proceeded to carry out our plan, at which point I found myself well within the inner confines of the tree/bush picking the middle level mulberries. I got my share, turned around to get into the clear when a branch swung down and slammed me on my upper (mustachioed) lip. It was obviously the desperate act of an angry, bitter, clean-shaven god that realizes that the true key to happiness is a hairy upper lip. I shed a little blood, but it will take more than a smack on the face to make me shave.

Day 8

Look Closely. It's There.

Two days ago, my significant other decided that I would try to grow a mustache. This—in fact anything concerning my facial hair is something of a running joke, as I really can’t grow facial hair. I can grow a bit of something around my upper lip and chin, but it stops growing after it gets to typical pubescent boy length. As for the rest of my face, I just get wisps here and there. Frankly, I think said wisps look somewhat ridiculous and I refer to them wolfman-looking. I have no idea why as I would assume a wolfman would have a great deal of hair as opposed to wisps.

Regardless, here I am in all my mustachioed glory. I wonder if, in three weeks when my results are no more visible than they are today, if I will throw in the towel. As it is, I have over two months to try and make something happen, as I don’t foresee any work until then.

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