As a single woman, I strongly object
to this horrific trend.
I'm not going to throw around
careless accusations against facial hair. That just wouldn t be right. Rather,
my approach will be fair and balanced. You know, the reporting style made
famous by Fox News.
For starters, the mustache reminds
me of 1970s porn. As a kid, I wasn't always able to recognize the vital body
parts through the scrambled Playboy Channel, but I could always tell if the man
was wearing a mustache. Not a sexy scene, my friends.
Sticking with the 1970s theme, my
father sported a mustache back then, and I don't want to date a man that
resembles him. That's taking the Father Complex theory way too far.
Most importantly, I have very
sensitive skin. Sure, you can make the argument that the rash was due to the
marathon-long make-out session, not the mustache per se, but this isn t a time
to be logical. Let's keep the focus of this post where it belongs, on the
ill-conceived return of the mustache.
I'm not prejudiced; I'm against all
mustaches.
Pencil mustache? It reminds me of
John Waters.
The toothbrush? Um, no. Charlie
Chaplin donned that one for a reason: it's funny-looking.
Horseshoe-style mustache? Nice try. Magnum,
P. I. mustache? Psssssst. If you share his rugged good looks, e-mail me your
digits.
Guys, take it from me. There is a
reason the mustache trend died a slow death. Here's a hint: men aren't supposed
to be walking buffets, able to select from an assortment of late-night snacks
trapped in their hippielips.
