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Day -1, No Mo. |
I am starting to think this might be a very bad idea. What seemed like a hilarious piece of light hearted japery now seems like a moronic plan of monumental proportions. My hands quiver, my heart beats quicker in my chest and my body prepares to flee, but there is no escape. I will just have to do it.
I am going to grow a moustache. For a whole month.
I've not taken leave of my senses (at least, not completely). I'm taking part in Movember, the now worldwide men's health awareness and fund-raising campaign. All throughout the Month-Formerly-Known-As-November men, known as Mo-bros, grow 'taches, badger people for sponsorship and generally look like prats. Women (Mo-sistas) don't grow moustaches, but do badger people for sponsorship and put up with their loved ones looking like prats. OK, great, I hear you say. Simple concept, catchy name, a month of looking like an escapee from a porn film, so what's the problem?
The problem is that I have hilariously bad facial hair. I have pretty low standards when it comes to my appearance, let's be honest, but even I acknowledge that I have terrible facial hair. Any attempt to grow a beard - from a goatee to a full face fuzz - results in me looking like a mangy dog that got tangled in a roll of sticky tape and only just pulled itself free. You know that kid at primary school who got chewing gum stuck in their hair and had to have a patch shaved off? That's me, only the patches are all over my face. What's more, my facial hair doesn't grow quickly. When I shave on a Monday morning, I don't get a five o'clock shadow, I get a Thursday afternoon shadow. If my beard were on sale at Tesco, it would be in the "Market Value" section, probably with a "reduced to clear" sticker on it and still wouldn't sell. In short, not only will I be growing an unfashionable bit of face fungus, but I will be doing so
badly. And then blogging about it on the internet because, you know, this is the future and all that. Oh, and posting it on Facebook. And Twitter. And talking about it in person, assuming I actually dare leave the house.
So why the hell am I putting myself up for public ridicule? Easy. Because men are idiots. We drink, we eat crap, we sit on out arses and shout at the footy on the telly rather than playing it ourselves and we act like we're dying when we've got the cold. When we're actually ill, though, we don't go to the doctors', preferring to ignore it and hope it will go away. Sometimes it does, but sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's us that go away instead.
We can change that. Part of Movember is raising awareness of men's health, and prostate and testicular cancers in particular. That's why I'm writing this blog and bugging you to read it and then tell your friends to read it too. Or tell them to read something better written,
like this.
Of course, there's another reason for Movember, and my participation in it: fund-raising. Medical research costs money. Awareness campaigns cost money. Treatment and post-treatment care costs money. I know a global recession isn't the best time to ask for cash, but please, if you've got a fiver spare, chuck it in the tin at
http://mobro.co/ajsb/