Mustachioed Mama

Chicks with mustaches. We've all seen 'em. You know how it goes: you'll be talking to them and your eyes keep inadvertantly creeping toward the very visible peach fuzz - or sometimes full-on handlebar 'stache - that adorns their upper lip. And you can't fully concentrate on the conversation because in your head, you're wondering whether or not they realize that their lip looks like the armpit of a pubescent boy and whether anybody has ever pointed that out to them and if so then why for goodness sake have they not like taken care of the issue?

Listen, I'm not dogging on females with facial hair - as you know (and read through the archives if you don't) I have a beard. But I keep it in check, y'all. Thanks to my arsenal of de-fuzzing goodies, people talking to me won't be distracted ... unless, of course, it's by my smokin' hotness. Right?

*cricket, cricket*

Anyway, point is, I pride myself on keeping my facial hair at a minimum. Which is why I was a little disturbed yesterday when Colin drew this "No Grumpiness" sign:

I mean, it's obviously me. The crazy hair, the round face, the big feet, and - most importantly - my very favorite word, "No." So what, then, is the mustache-like apparition hovering above my downturned mouth? I was immediately nervous. Am I one of those women who indeed does not notice that I'm sporting a 'stache? Have my conversations been overshadowed by my five o'clock shadow?

Luckily, when I asked Colin about it, he said that my nose was wrinkled up because of my grumpy face. So it wasn't a mustache after all - just part of my overall bitchy look. (Which, obviously, I've perfected in my son's eyes.)

I waxed my upper lip just in case, though. You really never can be too careful.

PS - Have you entered the giveaway yet? Only two more days!