Evolution of a mustache...

I've always wondered how people decide that they will wear a mustache. Do they just wake up one day, and decide "you know, I think I'll leave that caterpillar for a while and see where it takes me..."?

Now, I've had a beard in the past. There are things you can do with a beard. You can trim it into a neat little thing, or go Bohemian and let it out (I usually chose the latter option). I had fun with my beard. In class, I would tuck a cigarette or my pen in there (mine got quite nappy after a certain length), and affect a sort of suburban/whiteboy/jewish version of the "pickcomb in the afro" look that our dark skinned brethren have mastered.

But a mustache?

I mean, there isn't too much in the way of style, right? You've got the bushy mustache that sort of mops up any residual food or drink that doesn't make it into your mouth. You've got the Fu Manchu look, but you sort of need a kimono to pull it off. The Hitler 'stash is just wrong...Or, you could go for the "gay frenchman" waxed job. Of course, there's the good old fashioned handlebar mustache, but that takes a lot of time and patience...
I just couldn't figure it out. What would compel someone to make such a decision?

I realized a few weeks ago that the idea isn't spontaneous; it's developed over time by a process similar to osmosis.
I'll explain.
At the beginning of the summer, I went to the barber to get my hair cut. It was after the three weeks, so my beard was pretty healthy then. Since I was home, I had to get rid of it as well. I asked the barber to trim it, in order to make my shaving considerably easy.

The barber did my sideburns, and then my neck and chin. When it came to my mustache, she paused.
"Do you want to keep the mustache?"
Huh? It was so random. I asked her why, and she shrugged. "You would look good with a mustache. You have the right type of growth there."

I took the 'stash off, but that moment stayed with me.
I would look good in the mustache?
My hair was right for it?
I just didn't see it.

Still, a few weeks later, the thought, the idea, was still bouncing around inside my head, floating to the forefront of the murky fishbowl I call my mind.
Gradually, the idea was seeming less alien to me.

After all, there are other folks with mustaches, right?

Some people even looked good in them.

Hell, a mustache is sort of disarming, right? I mean, you can't be scared of a guy with a bushy mustache, can you? It makes one more approachable, in my mind...

And so, last Friday, when I was shaving my several week old beard, I left my mustache. It would be an experiment, of sorts.
I went to Walgreens. The cashier called me "Sir."
Not bad...
I went to Yeshiva. The few guys who saw me snickered and made some comments, but the overall reception was pretty good.

I was almost sold. Maybe I did in fact look good in a mustache.

Sadly, when I was doing a once over with my crummy shaver before Shabbos, I accidentally chopped off half of it, and had to shave the rest.

Bummer....