One Week On

It has been a week since I stopped shaving, to grow a mustache for the Mustache Bash.  I have different thoughts every time I look into a mirror.  I think I look different... weird... like my uncle (the only one in the family with facial hair)... older... like Snidely Whiplash...  Did you see that none of my thoughts was that I looked good?

When I go to my barber next week for my regular haircut, I'll ask if he can take it off when I'm through.  (My friend Robomarkov said I could reduce it with a beard trimmer then shave, but I don't have to want to buy something for just one use in my lifetime.)  Or, maybe I could leave the mustache on until my birthday a month later, then have the barber I took Robomarkov to last year (which I still haven't blogged about, have I?) do it, kind of as a birthday present to myself.

Actually, that sounds kind of nice:  defeat aging a year by removing the mustache that makes me look older!