The Handlebar Handler

Well, it's happened. The mid-life crisis has hit early. Or maybe it is just the thirties-slump. I don't know. All that I do know is that my husband walked out the room the other night looking like this:

Every girl who has a mama who raised her right knows good and well that, when you see this guy coming, you run! Well, my mama did raise me right, but when I saw this guy coming towards me, I couldn't run. For two reasons. First, I have now been on bedrest for two months and I know that I just wouldn't be able to get away and would run the risk of serious injury if I decided to suddenly break out in a mad dash. And second, the eyes and the voice behind this monstrosity belong to my husband. The love of my life. Yes, the father of my children. There was an internal struggle vying for my fight-or-flight instincts. Do I take all of those self-defense moves that my husband once taught me in case I was approached by an attacker and put them to good use, or do I embrace the man before me because I said "I do"? Oh, the dilemna!!

I immediately began formulating my arguments as to why this was one of the worst ideas that he had ever had. I thought of all of the support that I would get from the community at large. Of course everyone that we know would side with me! Who would support such an outrageous act? Only a great enemy or a blind man. I think that my initial response was "Okay, that's funny, now go and finish shaving!!" Surely this was just some practical joke. Surely he wouldn't leave the house like this. Well, anyone who knows Gary knows how delusional I must have been to think this for only a second. He wasn't going to have what he considered to be such a great masterpiece and not parade it around for the whole world to see. Within the hour, the Facebook profile had been changed and all close friends and family members had been informed. It was out there...

The response from all of our female friends was exactly as I expected. Most of them went by the rule of "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." A faithful few taunted, mocked, and berated. But then I was thrown a curve ball. All of the guys actually loved the thing. Whether they actually did like the 'stash, or this was just some survival-of-the-fittest mentality to which they were encouraging "the competition" to look as hideous as possible, I do not know. But they encouraged, lauded, emulated, and made promises to have one of their own in the near future. I'm sure that high fives and chest bumps were involved. One friend even begged him to keep it at least through Sunday so that he could bring "class and sophistication" to the tenor section of the church choir. What was happening? I was losing ground and Gary was becoming more and more determined to show off his manhood.

Yes, he went to work the next day looking like this. He met with friends and hugged his daughter (who, thankfully, is still a bit too young to have been taught to run from this kind of man, so she continued to love her daddy unconditionally). I was beginning to worry that this beast may be here to stay. So I pulled out the big guns. The only rebuttal that I had left. It was all or nothing. "Gary, what if my water breaks tonight and we have to rush to the hospital, and the first picture that you ever take with our son is of you looking like this?!?"

I don't know if it was anything that I said, but I do know that my wonderful husband who loves me so much walked from the shower yesterday morning clean-shaven. Ah, bliss!! I won't be taking those hairless dimples for granted anytime soon, that's for sure!

I forgot to mention in my original post that, when asked what she thought of Daddy's mustache, Mary Laine's response was "dirty!" Out of the mouths of babes!!