I’ll keep this one short and sweet. A massive thanks to everyone who supported me for Movember…whether you donated money, took a photo of me every day, or you just resisted the urge to snigger until I had walked past…Thank you!
Here’s a 30 second video of my progress:
And another big thanks to the other members of Comms Comancheros.
Eug you looked terrifying. Brendan, your hirsute abilities are beyond compare. Matt, you would have made an awesome extra in Deadwood. And Luke…well at least we tried…now let’s get this 70’s themed Christmas party out of the way so we can shave these sodding things off!
In 1998 I travelled to Ireland. Both my Mum and my Dad can trace their ancestry to Ireland and I genuinely thought that when I arrived there I would feel some sort of connection…some sort of ancestral calling. Not surprisingly, I didn’t.
Movember has been similar. I won’t lie, as much as I played the ‘I’m going to look ridiculous’ card going into this, part of me genuinely hoped that I would actually look good. That it would suit me. That it would redefine me. In short, I really hoped that I could rock a mo. But, like Celtic ancestry, some things work better in the realm of imagination.
But here are some things I have learnt after three weeks with a mo.
People are so unkind
After the initial week of justified sniggering and pointing. People began to delight in taking the piss. A few people at work told me that I ‘looked like Cary Grant’. Which I took as a compliment until a quick Google images search revealed that the man never had a moustache!
Then my brother-in-law took to Twitter to tell me that if I just moved my eyebrows to where I wanted my mo to be, I would look like Magnum P.I! While this may be true…I think it’s fair to say that his Christmas present this year is going to be remarkably crap…or entertainingly flammable.
Then people on Instagram started to tell me that I looked like either Gomez Addams or Burt Reynolds. While this did lead to some pleasurable audio memories of the band Gomez, it also lead to some less pleasurable memories of…well…Burt Reynolds.
Movember is the equaliser
As a man you live in constant fear of accidentally asking a non-pregnant woman if she is pregnant (which roughly translates as ‘you’re looking a bit tubby’). It really is the ultimate social faux pas. So much so, that even if a woman is clearly in labour in front of me…I will avoid asking if she’s pregnant, just to be safe.
Up until now, I could never find a female equivalent. But with Movember, women feel quite comfortable coming up to you and saying ‘Oh, you’re doing Movember?’ (which roughly translates as ‘Oh Christ there is something that looks like a caterpillar under your nose. Please don’t let that be serious!’) So all you have to do is look innocent and say ‘No, I’ve been growing this since October…I really like it’, and you can sit back and enjoy a lot of conversational back-pedalling and desperate attempts to extricate themselves from the situation.
A moustache is not particularly comfortable
Perhaps in time this will change. But after three weeks, my Mo is itchy and scratchy…and not in the good Simpsons way.
Some people are very generous
After my most recent post, three exceptional human beings donated to our Movember team. So thank you very much Julie, Karen and Marta. It is really appreciated.
But for those of you who don’t see me regularly, and who want me to prove that I really am growing a mo…here are some progress shots
If this isn’t enough to shame you into a donation…then you are dead to me.