The one thing I regret daily when looking in the mirror is that I did not have an opportunity to document the growth of my mustache. Lance often photographs or videos amusing or defining moments in my life, but he was busy fighting George's War while I was busy growing my 'stache.
The other thing I regret, perhaps weekly, is that I didn't have a clue what I was doing when I initially grew my mustache, and an ill-performed undercut left it somewhat irreparably asymmetrical in a manner only perceivable to myself and someone otherwise intimately familiar with my facial hair.
They say that if you love something, you should let it go. If it comes back to you, it was meant to be. As much as I hate speaking in cliches (I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a grapefruit spoon than use a cliche), this is what is the destiny of the 'stache. I'm not getting rid of it, per se, I'm merely letting it grow again to it's full potential. I will not be without 'stache, it will merely be hiding beneath the surface of my upper lip until it returns to it's full glory.
It should probably take two to three months before my mustache has reappeared in any recognizable form, and I'm sure there will be a couple weeks when it is too short to wax, but too long to leave unwaxed. Waxing it at this point will leave me looking like Peter Sellers in Dr. Strangelove (as Mandrake. Did you know he played Mandrake as well?).
The decided date for the trim is tomorrow morning after my Saturday evening festivities. I will be documenting the whole process and monologging unnecessarily throughout.
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