Movember’s come and gone, and I just have to tell you how glad I am to have my face back. I was happy to take one for the team in the name of the little gland that could, but it was brutal. Absolutely brutal. Next year? This boy’s writing a check. Plain and simple. No drama. No trauma. No face like a llama. (Come on, forced alliteration has its place in the world…)
I think what I found most interesting about the mustachioed month of my life was the seeming “right to offer commentary” by all who knew me — or not. Yeah, it didn’t matter how well anyone knew me. It could be a family member, an acquaintance, a co-worker, or even a friend of a co-worker’s friend’s cousin. No matter how far removed, the commentary flowed like we were family. Funny that. There was something about hair on my upper lip that just drove people to open their mouths and tell me how they felt about the hair on my upper lip. No invitation necessary. Simple freedom of speech — all directed at me. One of my work buddies even dropped out of Movember because he couldn’t take the ribbing and ridicule, good natured or no. He actually pulled me aside to apologize that “he just couldn’t take the comments all day long.” It’s true. It was brutal.
But here’s what’s even more brutal (okay, so I’m being dramatic) — the ratio of free-flowing commentary/ridicule/persecution to free-flowing donations in support of the cause? Pretty disparate. Now I’m not complaining, because this is all about free will and choosing to donate to a cause that means something to you. And those of you who supported me financially AND emotionally? You scored major points, both Karmic and Alanic. And, yes, this was a personal cause of mine that the rest of the world was forced to view daily, even if not actively participating. Understood. Clearly my bloated perception of my ability to harness emotions and wallets was not nearly as powerful as a Kardashian, Keyes or a Timberland. Wait, didn’t we watch them tank on Twitter, too, right? (Lesson learned, thank you Stewart Rahr…) Okay, feeling better now.
Any way, I guess I have to ask myself this question: Next year, will I subject myself to 30 days of whiskered ridicule? Or will I simply write a check and call it a day. Now that I understand how polarizing a mustache can be (coupled with the fact that I got more affection from Chloe, Samson and Geronimo than Chris during that period…), this boy is writing a check. Plain and simple. So, Movember participants of 2011? Whichever one gets to me first next year, I commit to you that I will write a check in the amount of what my mustache earned us this year! $135 signed, sealed, delivered. But my lip? It’s my own. And I won’t take any lip from you, either. Enough said.