What. A. Month.
How many days can one go without kissing the man one is married to, even if he resides in the same house and he sleeps in the same bed and one sees him every day?
Thirty, if he's sporting a mustache. Especially one that looks like this:
It's not even an ironic mustache anymore. It was cropped to military standards the day after the original (and ridiculous) photos were taken, and it just looked like a Very Serious Mustache, and made Chris look Very Serious all the time. Which is no fun.
Often he would say things, and I would respond with, "That's just The Mustache talking. You don't really mean that." And he would say, "No, I really mean it." And I would say, "Quiet, Mustache. I want to talk to Chris now."
All this to say that Movember has been very challenging on all sides. It must be hard to live with someone who won't kiss you and mocks your manly upper lip at every possible opportunity, even though she thinks she's funny...
But huzzah! To everyone's delight (except for Vaughn's; he thought it was a grand mustache), it was shaved off this morning, and Chris looks like my Handsome Prince again.
Prostate cancer received a nifty donation, of course. Aside from that, lettuce forget this ever happened... for the next eleven months or so.