confessions

Mustache March.

Do you remember this one? It was awesome. It wasn’t March, but it was the sweetness, right then. Heather J. really really hated it. So did Bishop. I loved it. There’s nothing hotter on a dude than mutton chops and a haircut that’s about 4 months past its prime. Did not make him look like psycho serial killer at all. But I did feel safe.    Try not to fall in love with him, ladies. But feel free to come back to admire his looks.    

  So it’s March again. The glorious time of the year where all the hipsters have an excuse to force out their fifteen facial hairs into something completely ironic. I love mustache March. But here’s something I WISH was secret about me: I could have a real bitchin’ mustache, too. But I’ll get back to that. First, I’d like to introduce you to my brother Jamey:

That mustache is real. The chick isn’t his rocking fiance. She’s way hotter and nicer and of good report and praiseworthy. I just liked the stache.      
Anyways. Back to me. I’m the hairiest girl you’ve ever seen in your life. I come from a long line of hairy women. When my grandmother was on her deathbed I really had to restrain myself from pulling out some tweezers and yanking out the hair on her chinney chin chin. My mom has made us PROMISE that we’ll take care of her facial hair after she gets to senile to. Which really could be any day (ha ha muttherrrr) . I’m pretty sure she wrote it into her living will. No extreme measures to save life, no facial hair. That’s what I’m putting in mine, too. Also, in the even of dismemberment, I’d really like a peg. Peg leg. Peg arm. It doesn’t matter. 

I digress. I digest. That part has been going really good lately. Lots of leafy greens. Oh, and by the way, I’m halfway to my diet goal! Cheers, applause, confetti. It’s funny to be so happy to be *this* “skinny” because a few years ago, this was what I weighed right after having Casey. But I’ve come to use food as therapy, so it’s served it’s purpose. The only problem now with dieting is that I actually have to deal with crap instead of burying it under a plate (by ‘plate’  I mean ‘crate’) of nachos.
Obviously the ADD medicine has worn off. Back to the hair. I’m HAIRY! So bad that before I got married, my MIL took me to get my mustache lazered off. I only went the one time, so it didn’t help. I also didn’t “get” the point. I wish I could say I was Greek. Or that I was a dude. Because then it’d totally be okay for my body to be like this. Hairy. Pimply. Mushy. My face hates Washington. It always has. But it’s gotten way worse. It’s so super sensitive now that I can no longer get it waxed. I break out in a nasty, scaley rash every single time. So last week I decided to try the super sensitive kind of nair for your face. (I put it on the car on the way home from Silverdale because I’m a multitasker). Yah, broke out all over my upper lip and my chin. Which is so sad to me. I shouldn’t be able to grow a goatee. So now I’ve taken to picking the hairs out one by one with tweezers. It makes me hostile. Like threat level orange hostile. And I’m not good at it nor do I have the attention span to spend the right amount of time doing it.
I’ve always shaved everything else. My arms, legs, toes etc. Lance didn’t believe it was as bad as it was until two years ago when I decided to grow out the hair on just one of my big toes. We called it “Hairtoe” because we’re super creative. It was DISGUSTING. I wish I had taken a picture. But no one thinks about that sort of thing when you’re hot in the moment. 
I bet you thought I was going somewhere with this, right? Wrong. You don’t know me at all.
Anyways, I just think it’s a little misogynistic to only include dudes in Mustache March. I could totally be a contender. 
                                

12 thoughts on “Mustache March.

  1. Ha ha, you're hilarious! I'm really hairy, too. Not Greek, Italian, nor a dude (although I look WAY more like a dude than YOU). Little kids part my arm hair. You would think it would make me more diligent in my hair removal routines, but no. It makes me less diligent. I shave my legs every sunday morning and my shower takes forEVer (sung like Sandlot). With spikeys already growing in by night, what's my motivation to turn around and shave again the next day? Nah, Sundays are good enough for me.I should be better at in the very least taking care of my 'stache, but really who pays attention to their face on a daily basis? Pshaw! Sometimes my closer friends try to sensitively remind me that it's thick enough to catch food in it. But I think usually they forget, too. Strangers are the only ones who notice the mess, but who cares what strangers think.(this is what I tell myself, and it really, really works!)

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  2. Last Sunday we were sitting at the dining room table playing a game and my five year old got close to my face to ask me a question. Then she said, "Hey do you want me to get the tweezers and pull out your whiskers?" My eldest told me that if one of her kids ever said that to her, she would consider it a low point in her life. I've been blessed with the loss of most of my body hair in middle age, but you know how some women get a line of hair from the naval to the pubic area during pregnancy? I had that all the time, and during my first two pregnancies, I pretty much had fur covering the bottom half of my stomach.

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  3. Hahahahaha! I'm so grossed-out by you right now. When I meet you face-to-face I'll be studying you so closely you'll squirm under the intense scrutiny. Just promise me one thing: never, NEVER bleach your 'stache instead of tweezing it (like I even have to tell you that). My friend did that in college when we "gently" suggested that she do something about her furry upper lip, and she wound up with long, ORANGE whiskers. Not quite the remedy we were thinking of. So don't do that, K?

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  4. I'm not terribly hairy, but I have my fair share of hair (try saying that 10 times fast). However, I can sweat with the beast of them (haha – I meant "best" but figured beast was more appropriate)!

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  5. I know you'd said I can't fall in love with Lance, but it's too late. I think I'm allowed. Also, your brother's stache is sweet. Also, this one time working on the water front of Seattle, this old lady wheeled up to me to ask me a question and I had to take like a triple take she had a huge white patch of "fur" on her chin.. it scared me.Also, I like your stick figure drawings.. Neenah said you look like Oscar the Grouch in this post.

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  6. Electrolysis! There's a lady in Old Town Silverdale – Glenna Veach. It think it's like $1 per minute – usually you go in 15 minute spurts. She's fast, it's not horribly painful (well, 'staches are…).

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  7. this made me laugh until I cried! I have a blond mother and a blond sister, and they TOTALLY don't get what a hassle shaving, etc. is like for me. That if I get goosebumps after I shave, it's like I didn't shave at all, and that I can only shave my whole leg once a week, max, otherwise I break out and am itchy in awful places! I am there with you sister!

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  8. I can't say anything funny or clever,but I wanted you to know that reading your blog makes me LAUGH and SAVES MY LIFE!!!! (the funny parts–not the sad parts) I am in love with Casey! AAhhhh!

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  9. No way! My face hates Washington too! This factored into us moving to and staying in Vegas (no it didn't … well, yeah … it kindof did.) Also, can I just say … i freaking LOVE YOU!!! And also-also … I told my husband that i blog stalk you and that your BIL plays on BYU's basketball team and he was totally impressed … so impressed that when i get around it, I'll totally send you the sticker he made for you that says, "I approve this blog victim" … did i already mention that I love you? I did??? I should go tweeze a few chin hairs. Thanks for the reminder.

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