Rage Against Movember

We all know it's Movember.

I'm so excited.

Talk about predictable - this celebration of a furry upper lip started like so many popular man things do....with four friends sitting around drinking, and deciding they were going to bring the mustache back.  The prostate cancer awareness didn't even start until the following year.  THAT IS SO AWESOME.

I am beyond thrilled that my husband's utter devotion for a good cause has been carried to a new level this year.  He has gone above and beyond by shaving every bit of facial hair he owns besides the trash 'stache that has set up residence on his ever-disappearing lip.  I thought last year was exciting, but I had no idea how much last year's additional chin hair made a difference in retaining my husband's dignity - something neither of us really needs him to have anyways.

I am constantly humbled and wowed by the outstanding comradery behind this cause.  I love the image of everyone sitting around at lunch stroking the eyebrow they've successfully grown between their nose and mouth; congratulating one another on how far they've come - you know, because it is such hard work to stop shaving.  All this is happening around me while I try my best to keep my lunch down.  You have to hand it to them....even the lamest attempts at growing something are met with pride and high fives.

Lately I go to restaurants with my husband and waiters ask him about his Mo.  I've never been more proud - except for maybe when he passes gas in bed.  These two characteristics are currently tied for the coolest and most sexy things about my husband.

Actually, I'm relieved that people ask him about it when we're out in public.  Otherwise I'm afraid they would think I've purposefully married someone that resembles famous personalities with the name "Ron".

Ron Burgundy

Ron Swanson

Ron Jeremy

And the near heart attack that hits me at around 3:00 a.m. every morning when I roll over to find what appears to be an ex-convict lying in bed next to me?  Love that.  It keeps me on my toes.

And alas, I'm so relieved that I don't have to kiss my husband for this entire month.  I think that's the best part! Besides it being a safety hazard - whisker burn and all that, there is no way I'm going near that bushy thing formerly known as his upper lip.  Kissing my husband was getting old anyways.  Honestly, I'm ecstatic.

In fact, I am so on board with the awesomeness known as "Movember" this year, that I have decided to participate.  That's right.  I informed my devoted-to-the-stache husband that I'm also retiring my razor for the month of Movember.  I've decided to call it "HarryPitember"  or perhaps "Furrylegember".  I don't know.  I'm still playing with the title.

I'll just say this. If there was a contest for whose hair grows most rapidly..... I'd be the winner.

Until December...