Farewell Wyatt Earp

The other day I did a daring thing. I've been thinking about it for about three months, I guess, but I couldn't quite make the leap of faith. After all, I've been living with "this" since I was 19 and, although I'm not going to say how long that's been, let's just say it's been a while. Even now that I've done it, I'm still not quite accustomed to it.

What did I do??? Well, I shaved off my mustache. I know, that comes as a shock to those who've only known me as a Wyatt Earp (photo) knock off, but I think it was time. For one thing, I was getting weary of little kids coming up to me and asking me for an autograph reading something like, "To little Katie from Captain Kangaroo." Not that I minded the interaction with children -- you know me, I love that. It was just the idea of who they thought I was.

Actually, I'm kidding -- but you can never be too careful. Anything can happen and better safe than sorry. So, now my upper lip is as barren as a Fourteener (as we call the peaks above fourteen thousand feet back home) above timberline. And it's wierd.

For one thing, I still shave like the mustache is there. I also reach up to wipe it clean only to find my upper lip, instead. It's got to be muscle memory; I've been doing these things so long they've become second nature. Aside from that, though, I finally look closer to the age I feel and that was the whole point. With all due respect to the venerable Captain, I'm beginning to like me this way.

Sorry, Wyatt.


(Image via Wikipedia)