Mustachio

I can't really grow a mustache. Try and try as I might, it's not so much on the happening side. Alas. My beard, though, grows in quickly, wildly, and sometimes multi-colored.

In high school, the dress code forced us to be clean shaven. We were permitted a well-groomed mustache, however. Seeing as I had to start shaving when I was 13, and cannot grow a mustache, this was a bit annoying.

2001.

I didn't show up to school always clean shaven, but not with a bunch of facial hair. Kinda like a light coating. The girl I had liked at the time was Cameron, the en-reddened gymnast, the one I got a stick thrown at me for.

I looked less like a bum when I shaved, so I suppose it was because of that Cameron liked it when I shaved. So, one day, I made a point of shaving in the morning and telling Cameron. She liked it. I hadn't bothered shaving the few whiskers that grew above my lip, so she quickly pointed them out.

Defensively, I asked, "Do you know how hard it is to shave there?"

"As a matter-of-fact yes, I do."

"... what?"

She then explained to me that when she was little, she would watch her father shave. One day her dad gave her shaving cream and a razor without a blade and she "shaved." I thought it was a cute story.

I still hardly ever shave my mustache. It's still a pain and I still hardly grow any hair there. C'est la vie.