If I had to pinpoint the worst period of my life, I’d say it was 9th grade.
Freshman year of high school is tough on nearly every kid, but for me it was just terrible. You see, there are two camps of boys at that age: the ones who have started to become men and the late bloomers. And I was late. Way late. Some of the other kids were growing tall and sprouting body hair. I remember Shane Macauley had a full beard in the eighth grade. I shit you not. His leg hair had split ends and at 14 he had 5 o’clock shadow before lunch.
I, on the other hand, was 5’2″ and baby-faced as can be. Like a hairless cat. The girls who were shaving their legs already had nothing on my silky smooth skin. It was horrendous. And I swore that one day, when I got older and puberty kicked in, I’d grow the mother of all beards and a handlebar mustache just to shut up all the little assholes who were teasing me.
Unfortunately, that was not in the genetic cards.
Puberty came but the beard never really did. And the mustache? Even worse. To this day I only have to shave once a week, and even when it does grow in it’s—weird. Reddish-blond stubble comes in patches, but not consistently at all. There are parts of my face where hair just simply refuses to grow. And I use the word “grow” loosely because it comes in at a snail’s pace. Seriously, old people have sex faster than my facial hair grows. It’s humiliating and that’s why I avoid all talk of goatees, beards and mustaches at all costs.
So why am I spending the month of November growing a mustache?
Despite my protests and attempts to weasel out of it, a fantastic (and persistent) group of dad bloggers convinced me to join their
Movember team. What is Movember, you ask? It’s a movement aimed at bringing awareness and much-needed funds to the issue of men’s health, specifically prostate cancer. So to that end, men from all walks of life come together and get people to sponsor them while they grow their mustaches to ridiculous lengths and fashions for the entire month of November.
But here’s my problem: It’s Day 17 and I look like a pubescent high school kid who just made out with a cat. Seriously. Look at that picture. Can you believe that’s 17 days of not shaving my upper lip?
The worst part is the hair is starting to get kind of thick on the sides near the corners of my mouth, but I don’t have ANYTHING growing in the middle. I mean nothing. It’s like having two pathetic midget mustache strips growing on each side of my face struggling in vain to get to one another, but it’s a journey that will never be completed.
So I’m asking for your pity. If you have some extra money and want to give to a good cause, I’m begging you to sponsor me. Before you donate by clicking here, I want you to check out some of the other guys on my team. They have awesome mustaches. Thick, full, manly food catchers that make them look like porn stars or highway patrolmen. Or porn stars acting as highway patrolmen. Either way, they look sweet and I’m left to wallow in my hairless, deflated masculinity. My only shot at any kind of redemption is raising enough money to preserve what little dignity I have left.
Seriously though guys, it’s a great cause. There’s a lot of attention given to breast cancer and other medical maladies, and rightly so. But men, and specifically prostate cancer, get a miniscule amount of coverage and awareness is nil. If you’re able, I’d really appreciate you helping to change that.
And in return, I’ll keep posting humiliating pictures of my pathetic facial hair. Which is also starting to itch like a bastard I might add. I have two more weeks of patchy awfulness causing strange glances from coworkers, my bosses and clients. I’m sacrificing my dignity for the sake of charity. That’s gotta be worth a couple of bucks right?