I went to the cabinet and pulled a brand new, unused razor from the package. I let the water run a little warmer than usual. I shook the can of Barbasol Sensitive Skin (with Aloe) extra vigorously. I looked at myself in the foggy mirror and steeled myself for the month ahead. And finally, at 8:06 am this morning, October 31st, 2008, I shaved my upper lip for the last time.
The last day of October 2008 has come too soon. I am not prepared to grow a moustache. I don’t think I ever could be, but you know that already. As I shaved this morning I lingered over each stroke, savoring it. Breathing deep the scent of my shavesoap and endulging each tiny exhiliration that came with the cool air striking strip after strip of freshly shorn skin. It was a good shave.
It’s unhealthy, however, to dwell on my clean-shaven past for over long. In an effort to engage my future as a moustachioed man-about-town, I have formed a plan, a strategy not only for growing and cultivating, but for living a vigorous, healthy moustache life. If I am truly to understand “the other side” of the facial hair divide, I must most fully embrace this opportunity to live like them.
Firstly, however, a brief over view of my Growing Plan. I will resist the urge to shave the entirety of my face for several days, perhaps as much as a week, beyond my usual every-other-day shaving schedule. As I have never let the whole of my facial hair pattern emerge, I do not know what type of moustache I am capable of growing. I must let the entire field develop, and see what designs and potentialities present themselves. Then, once I settle upon a style, of which I will inform you, do not worry, I will shave the rest of my face. For the purposes of the competition we are not allowed beards, only moustaches and, perhaps, an accentuating soul-patch.
There are larger issues to address, though. I must make Life Style adjustments to equal my moustache. A man with a moustache in dirty jeans a Ratt T-shirt is not a pretty sight. No, even if he attires himself so with a great sense of sarcasm, he never makes himself attractive. Maybe his friends have a knowing laugh with him, when they take breaks from playing their X Boxes and dancing to Fleet Foxes, but, you will please note, no women have attended his indierock videogame party. Instead, I will dress up to my moustache. I intend to treat it as an expensive accessory (for it comes at such a great price, indeed), akin to cufflinks and tieclips.
I believe that, so presenting myself, I may find that owning a moustache will open a new, more carefree life to me. It will make accessible a great deal of previously unavailable merriment, and invite great goodwill from friends and strangers alike, and I must be dressed appropriately to receive these gifts.