Eaten Alive By Sydney
February 9, 2010 – 2:49 am | 5 Comments

When the prospect of a shift to Sydney is raised, the doomsayers often rise as well. And they’re nasty! The manner of one’s demise is always different, but the result is always the same – …

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Home » Featured, Understanding Sydney

Movember Reign

Submitted by on November 28, 2011 – 11:57 amNo Comment

This Movember moustache is growing on me.

It was a bit hairy at first, waiting for the wee sprout, desperately hoping I could ditch the mo-nifying glass and see tangible growth with the naked eye. Preferably before December.

But going through the down(y) times has now been rewarded – I have facial hair above my mouth and below my nose. None on my chin. No sideburns either. It’s a pure, stand-alone moustache.

I can now groom. Initially I used an old toothbrush – don’t get freaked out, it wasn’t mine – but I recently graduated to one of those old-style combs. I’m currently using the fine-combed area, but I hope to graduate to the more spaced-out larger combs on the other end by November 30, maybe November 31 as a worst case scenario.

One day I’d like to have to subdue the beast with a big, spikey brush. Or even use grooming tools like scissors and electric razors. That would be a proud day.

For now, I look at the wee fella with a mixture of wonder…and disbelief. I can’t believe he’s mine. This miracle, evolving every day.

I’m incredulous. I haven’t looked in the mirror this much since the blackhead break-out of 2003.

I won’t lie. There have been tough times. For days during its infancy I kept a constant vigil watching over a gray spot that appeared just under one nostril, deceiving admirers into sometimes offering a tissue or hankie. Thankfully, a grouping of brunette whiskers dived over the top to provide a darker covering and the evolution continued.

No-one gives you a manual. You stock up on wax with expectations of using it one day, but there are no guarantees.

You keep your head down, bum up and grit your teeth through the ‘terrible twos’, those first few weeks when you wonder if anyone will even notice you’re supporting Movember and its far-reaching campaign to raise awareness and money for prostate cancer and depression initiatives.

When my mo bro eventually mo-terialised he was a light pencil, dreaming of elongating into a Fu Manchu or Dali. Then he gradually thickened up into a fluffy caterpillar harbouring ambitions to blossom into a Mexican or Imperial.

As an Australian resident, and bearing in mind Movember was started by our Victorian cuzzies in 2003 (and has subsequently raised more than $180 million for its causes), I had my eyes on the ultimate prize – a full-on Merv Hughes, thick and cascading all the way under my chin, threatening to pick a fight with my chest hair.

But my Merv hopes were dashed just follicles away from my chin as both sides faded to gray, nay platinum, and made me look like a walrus. So the ‘hemline’ of the mo rose. Now it’s a few whiskers below my bottom lip, still intimidating, but more construction worker than gangland.

He may not be a Tom Selleck, but I’m proud of him. The shape is officially called a horseshoe and he’s a beauty, making my fat face look so much thinner and deflecting attention away from the graying and receding hairline.

I’ve updated my Facebook profile photo for the first time in eighteen months and it’s the first time in three years I haven’t used a photo of one of my handsome kids. Truth be told, it’s also the first time in five years I’ve actually used an up-to-date photo.

Only my LinkedIn profile pic remains the same, not because my work contacts don’t have a sense of humour, but because the existing headshot was professionally photoshopped and somehow makes me look more important and influential than I actually am…or like a cartoon character. Either is cool.

What isn’t so great is that December looms. Movember Reign is almost over. Decision time beckons.

If the mo stays I won’t have the cloak of respectability Movember provides. My mo will stand alone. And I’m desperately weighing up if I’m ready for that responsibility.

On the positive side, we’ve bonded so completely. We go for bush walks, watch sport and hang out, we even go swimming together. And it just feels so natural. Plus, he saved my lips from getting burnt when I forgot my sunhat during a 30-degree scorcher. Oh, and he now shares in my favourite foods and beverages – he particularly likes frothy beer and spaghetti – and often saves small quantities for later consumption. Very thoughtful.

On the negative side, I suspect my wife is barely tolerating him and the constant talk about me looking like a 1970s porn star. But it’s the truth and I have every right to harp on about it.

A day after Gotye cleaned up at the ARIAs, Australia’s music awards, I can’t get his brilliant single of the year out of my head – but you didn’t have to cut me off; make out like it never happened and we were nothing…

If you are to go, my wee mo bro, you better believe I won’t forget you. You won’t be just somebody that I used to know.

I kept a stiff upper lip amid all the jibes for a reason. To see you grow. You started off a stranger and became a friend, a mate I’ve grown incredibly attached to.

Hopefully we’ll meet again next year, same time, same place. And I can see how you’ve changed.

And appreciate you even more than I do at the mo.


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