I need to confess what has happened to me over the past few weeks.
I'm quite a conservative fellow. I rarely swear, eat my greens and only touch whisk(ey)/cider/ale for medicinal reasons.
That and the love of getting giddy and giggly.
Just so you can get an idea, this is me:
See? Shirt. Tie. Face.
But recently I've stepped out of my comfort zone.
People no longer make eye contact with me. Their eyes wander from my usual gaze to just below my nose. They stumble over words. Their concentration wavers and they seem lost in the wonder over my style statement.
Since the start of the month I've itched, twitched and scratched my upper lip all in the name of charity and awareness.
What can I say? Movember has brought out the rascal in me. I've inspired people to compare me to a member of the Village People or a Western bandit.
Don't believe me?
Mo. Jumper. Face that means business.
But now it's drawing to an end.
Farewell to the fuzz. Move over Mo. Tell the tache to toddle off. My face is about to be reclaimed by skin.
So look. If you know someone who's joined this crusade over the past month, do give them your support.
Sure, laugh with them. Give yourself an excuse to giggle at their style. If we can inspire laughter, brilliant.
But also show them some love, as Americans from the 1990s used to say. Yeah, OK, this information is from episodes of Ricki Lake, but that's the best I can do.
We men, as a whole, don't tend to put ourselves forward if there's a medical issue. We're great at ignoring things. We can pretend we've got blinkers on if there's an issue. We look straight ahead.
If a group of blokes growing facial fluff can help others face up to what's going on around them, then brilliant. It may be silly but Movember can make a difference.
