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One hundred days ago, if you would have asked me if I would still be wearing my masculinity on my upper lip, I would have probably said “No.” But alas, I’m a man of phases, and today marks the 100th day of warming my philtrum (For the lazy) with the multitude of hairs more commonly known as a moustache. Frankly, I don’t know when I’ll get rid of the ol’ face furniture.

I started with the noblest of intentions to raise money for male cancer awareness during the month of Movember. On December 1st, when my colleagues were clean-shaven and back to normal, I came to the realization that I just got a free pass to try something new with my face. Normally, the biggest obstacle to trying something new, especially involving one’s appearance, is the, always inevitable, “awkward phase.” I’ve never had a moustache before, I had no idea how bad, or creepy, a ‘stache of peach fuzz would look. Fighting the urge to trim unruly hairs, re-learning how to blow my nose, and using the most napkins during meals since my toddler days were just a few of the trespasses I had to endure. My own niece even called my mouth brow “creepy,” but I powered through, you know, for charity.

Once past the awkward phase, my moustache began to grow on me, no pun intended. It started to curl on its own accord. My roommate conveniently had a moustache-sized comb that fit perfectly in my pocket at all times. Fellow moustachioed males would nod, wave, or even come up to shake my hand as they passed. I felt like I was a part of some unknown secret club, where everyone had warm upper-lips and the occasional piece of food stuck under their nose.

As it stands today, February 8th, the year of our lord two thousand thirteen, I see no signs of shaving. My lip toupee is even getting a gift for this momentous occasion, moustache wax. Let’s see what another 100 days will have in store for me and my flavor saver. With confidence up, compliments aplenty, and new accessories, I don’t know if I’ll ever part with my new best friend.