“What’s the hardest about being you?” “Mustache.”

Right now I’m rocking a big ol’, red beard (much to the amusement, chagrin and annoyance of many a coworker). And I tell you what, it takes some real dedication to wear this facial sweater in 100+ degree weather.

Too bad it has to die.

The beard is all part of an uber-elaborate attempt to see what I look like with just a mustache. Right now I can grow just about any manner of facial follicle decoration that I desire, but sometime in the not too distant future (hopefully) I’ll only be allowed to have a ‘stache. As a part of a militaristic operation, firefighters are not allowed to have any facial hair below the corners of their mouth.

So that means no goatees, soul patches, or beards- all of which I have a tendency to grow when I get the occasional wild hair. I’ll have to go with the clean-shaven look and hope that I can get away with my usual 5 o’clock shadow when on duty too. I’m pretty sure that barring some probie hazing/initiation or maybe some Cheers-esque contest, I’m pretty sure I won’t be trying to pull off a lip caterpillar.

So tonight, I trim it down to a goatee for a few days. This Sunday… the ‘stache will live. And then probably die shortly thereafter.

Maybe the experience will be chronicled through the magic of picture-taking. Maybe.

D