Mustache Rebellion

I come from a shaved face family. Our family’s traditions prize cleanliness, eight-blade razors, and moisturizing.

I stand athwart the razor, yelling “Stop!” While I cooperate removing the stubble elsewhere on my face, I preserve the idiosyncratic mustache.

I’ve robbed the world of another clean-shaven face. I’m able to distinguish myself from other people. I feel auteur and visionary. My clothes, accessories accentuated by hair growing between my lips and my clogged nostrils.

I’m not one of the people who waxes their mustache. I don’t need discipline here, I’m not trying to fall into a different subgroup. I’m not in the handlebar cult either.