Movember Movember

the first of november
begins the month of movember
a day as beardless i cannot remember
when i breathe out from my nose
i can feel it on my chin
it's something only those
can know as my kin
or mo bros as they are called
be they low brows or high brows
ps. except for my eyebrows
i'm pretty much bald

MOVEMBER

I cannot remember the last time I saw my chin, or knew how many I had. (There are two.) Nor my upper lip. (Just one.) It's so weird to see my face, my whole face. I remember it from my childhood, round and fat. The last time I saw it was when I was in college. But I moved to New Orleans after my sophomore year and enrolled at the University of Life (affiliated with the school of Hard Knocks). I grew a goatee then and have not seen my face since.

The goatee is my face anchor. It keeps my nose and eyes from drifting off into a puddle of skin.

I remember the brick of hair that used to sit on top of my head. One day post-college pre-job I was at the 7-ll waiting in line looking into the security cam monitor. The man in front of me had a bald spot. Unconsciously I reached my hand up to the back of my head. What was weird is that the man was did the same thing. In fact he was mirroring my every move.

Oh.

Crap.

That's when I decided I would adopt a new hairstyle, one I've dubbed acceptance. Every few days I shave my head at the number 2 setting; 7 o'clock shadow, if you will.

My wife never knew me with a full head of hair (other than pictures at my parent's house). But that is not by design. It's by DNA. And until last night, she has never known me without facial hair.

Enter Movember.

For the month of November men raise facial hair to raise awareness about illnesses that affect men such as prostate cancer. Friends at work have formed a mustache team, of which I am a member. This is my first year doing it. I am not really sure about the raising money part. But I do have the geekery part down. I have the Movember app, and more importantly the Everyday app.

Last night when my wife and I sat down to watch tv, I knew she hadn't noticed. It's funny what's a big deal to you, other people could care less. Or hardly see if the lights are dimmed. I leaned in against her and kissed her cheek. She still didn't notice. So I did it again and lingered my lips against the back of hand.

"Oh my god, did you do it?"

She reached for the light and stared into my fleshy face.

"You did. Oh my god. Where are you?"

I smiled and ducked my chin down, brought my lips in.

"I know, it's weird," I said.

"No," she said. "It's not weird. Um, ok, it's a little weird. It grows back, right?"

As we sat there watching the clean shaven face of Dexter waxing poetic about his dark passenger, I felt a breeze on my chin - as if there was a draft.

"Do you feel that?" I asked.

"What?"

"Like there's a window open. Is there a window open?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"It's November. There are no windows open. Maybe you're coming down with something."

"No, I'm fine. I don't feel it now."

We continued to watch TV, but I felt the draft again. It seemed to come in gentle rhythmic bursts, as if someone were breathing.

Oh.

Crap.

It was me. Each time I exhaled from my nose I could feel it on my chin.

WEIRD.

Don't get me wrong, I'm as vain as the next guy. I feel naked without my chin jacket. But it's just facial hair. It will grow back. And it's for a good cause.

PS. Now that I think about it, there was one other time I remember seeing myself sans facial hair. It was somewhere in the early 90s. I had graduated from college (yes, I went back and finished) and I was living in Berkeley with S & C in a two bedroom apartment on California St just off University Ave. The Berkeley Hills were on fire. Firetrucks were screaming, black smoke hung in the sky, and it was on every channel. We decided to volunteer, maybe we could help. Before leaving the apartment I shaved everything but a mustache. No, I don't know why I did that, but I remember saying, "Fire purifies. Fire purifies."

And I remember I looked like the construction worker from the Village people, only bald.

So you have that to look forward to...

;-)