Cecil
A month or two back, mostly through friends of Twitter, I became aware of a phenomenon known as Movember. Basically, the idea is that for the month of November alone, men grow a moustache from scratch (with no accompanying beard.. see, it takes guts) in order to raise money and awareness for men's health charities, chiefly regarding Prostate Cancer and Testicular Cancer.
I liked the idea of this and so decided, half out of solidarity, half for the challenge, half for a laugh (I was never that great at fractions) that I would participate.
However, it was only a week or so into Movember when I realised this was for charity. Previously I thought it was just an awareness type of thing. When I found out about the charity element, I investigated it, but it all seemed a bit too complicated (involving joining teams or somesuch) and I have never gone around asking for donations to charity before, so I decided to continue with growing the moustache but do it just for awareness and for the challenge.
As my lustrous moustache progressed, I fielded insults and compliments from co-workers, confusion and terror from passers-by, and a terrible suspicion that I looked like a shop worker at a retail store like Dixons or Currys.
I also provided updates as to how I was doing on Twitter, with my regular "Moustache Updates" detailing which moustached cliche I currently resembled, or recounting comments I had received from people about my upper-lip-hugger.
As my moustache gained prominence, Liz began to warm to it and named it Cecil due to its resemblance to a caterpillar. I began to realise with horror that my sister's engagement party (yeah, she got engaged. But we have more important things to discuss. Such as my moustache) fell in the month of November, and so, if I were taking this seriously at all, I would have to brave seeing all my extended family and some friends while looking like an escapee from 1970s American cop shows.
I made it through the evening relatively unscathed, though I had to explain the concept of Movember and my personal take on it around 10 times, it seemed... often to the same people; this is my family, a lot of them like a drink at a family get-together. My aunt told me I looked like a porn star, which said rather a lot more about her than it did me.
It was at this party that I experienced a reaction which had come to be a worrying trend towards the end of the month - violent dislike of the 'tache, bordering on hatred. People seemed severely disturbed, even revolted by it at times. Not many people voiced this opinion, but there were three or four in total, most of which reared their heads when Liz's photos of me made their way onto Facebook.
But once the engagement party was over, finally, the end was drawing near. A few people suggested that I should keep Cecil until Christmas, but this seemed as much against the rules as shaving the moustache off before the end of November would have been. No, if you love something, you have to let it go free; if it comes back to you (say, in a year's time), its yours. If it doesn't, you were never meant to wear the dubious facial hair in the first place.
I've told Liz that Cecil is off on a round-the-world cruise. It's easier that way.
I liked the idea of this and so decided, half out of solidarity, half for the challenge, half for a laugh (I was never that great at fractions) that I would participate.
However, it was only a week or so into Movember when I realised this was for charity. Previously I thought it was just an awareness type of thing. When I found out about the charity element, I investigated it, but it all seemed a bit too complicated (involving joining teams or somesuch) and I have never gone around asking for donations to charity before, so I decided to continue with growing the moustache but do it just for awareness and for the challenge.
As my lustrous moustache progressed, I fielded insults and compliments from co-workers, confusion and terror from passers-by, and a terrible suspicion that I looked like a shop worker at a retail store like Dixons or Currys.
I also provided updates as to how I was doing on Twitter, with my regular "Moustache Updates" detailing which moustached cliche I currently resembled, or recounting comments I had received from people about my upper-lip-hugger.
As my moustache gained prominence, Liz began to warm to it and named it Cecil due to its resemblance to a caterpillar. I began to realise with horror that my sister's engagement party (yeah, she got engaged. But we have more important things to discuss. Such as my moustache) fell in the month of November, and so, if I were taking this seriously at all, I would have to brave seeing all my extended family and some friends while looking like an escapee from 1970s American cop shows.
I made it through the evening relatively unscathed, though I had to explain the concept of Movember and my personal take on it around 10 times, it seemed... often to the same people; this is my family, a lot of them like a drink at a family get-together. My aunt told me I looked like a porn star, which said rather a lot more about her than it did me.
It was at this party that I experienced a reaction which had come to be a worrying trend towards the end of the month - violent dislike of the 'tache, bordering on hatred. People seemed severely disturbed, even revolted by it at times. Not many people voiced this opinion, but there were three or four in total, most of which reared their heads when Liz's photos of me made their way onto Facebook.
But once the engagement party was over, finally, the end was drawing near. A few people suggested that I should keep Cecil until Christmas, but this seemed as much against the rules as shaving the moustache off before the end of November would have been. No, if you love something, you have to let it go free; if it comes back to you (say, in a year's time), its yours. If it doesn't, you were never meant to wear the dubious facial hair in the first place.
I've told Liz that Cecil is off on a round-the-world cruise. It's easier that way.