Dear Ms. Mustache

Rockin the Mustache Lovely

The honey-dipped rays of the sun flickered against my window pane. I watched its light beam drift from a stack of books, to the armrest of my love-seat where my head hung heavy. It was bright, blinding and warming my face at the same time. Suddenly the phone rang. As I looked at the screen to view the caller, there she was in my reflection–Ms. Mustache! The sun picked up all the highlights of her soft thin hairs that danced lightly above my upper lip. I shuttered at its sight.

“Ugh!”

Ms. Mustache’s been in my life for many moons; often forgotten but never forgiven for her occupancy.

For some time now, I’ve been wearing a considerable amount of lipstick–it’s fun. Each time I pull out a tube to trace the shape of my lips, I feel like I’m taking part of a sophisticated female tradition. Trouble is, it only makes her more noticable, (Ms. Mustache).  It was my first visit with an esthetician. She was a persuasive Brazilian woman who waxed her entire face.  After much dialogue, I gave in and embarked on my first and only lip-waxing experience.

It painfully taught me that a bumpy, pimply reaction on my upper lip was much less attractive than the latter, Ms. Mustache.  I miss her terribly. I never thought I would say this, but I can’t wait for her to come back. I love Ms. Mustache.

4 thoughts on “Dear Ms. Mustache

  1. of course i had to read this first… being italian i have my own Ms.Mustache. I definitely wax… black bushy hair against my pale olive skin REALLY stands out… plus Raul doesn’t like it if i begin to look like a man.

    liked this blog a lot.. simple straight to the point and eloquent. especially liked the introductory sentence….. lovely!

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