A Movember Story
This is a short, true story about a series of choices I made one night, long ago. It is my hope that this story will prompt you to part with some “sympathy” dollars, which, when donated, happen to work just as well as regular dollars, and which you might consider pledging towards my Movember campaign.
Twenty years ago, when I was in the sixth grade, I attended my first weekend house party. I was both excited and terrified, because I went to an all-boys school and I had heard there would be girls at this particular party.
I made sure I had my outfit picked out many days in advance: navy blue blazer with brass buttons, white t-shirt, acid-washed jeans, white sport socks, black Doc Martens. Yes, I thought, this would be the perfect ensemble — classy, but not too showy.
At this point, feel free to take a few seconds to close your eyes and imagine me, 1 foot shorter, 90 lbs lighter, with a voice three octaves higher, dressed like a 1980’s New York City stand-up comedian – or more accurately, how someone from Saskatchewan would have envisioned a 1980’s New York City stand-up comedian.
I made sure I knew the address of the house ahead of time. And I made darned sure I did not arrive late, because that would be very uncool, I thought. It’s cool to be on time, I had figured, and probably even cooler, by that logic, to arrive waaay early.
So I arrived at the house two hours before the party was scheduled to begin. The hostesses (they were twins) ushered me downstairs to their basement and then returned upstairs, where I overheard them complaining to their mom that there was “a weird kid downstairs who arrived super early,” and what should they do with me? Suffice it to say, I was embarrassed. I was actually devastated. I was not “cool” at all, it seemed, and I don’t think the twins had even noticed the brass buttons on my blazer.
I was so traumatized that I honestly cannot remember what I ended up doing in that basement, as I waited those two hours for the other party-goers to show up. I blocked out that memory completely — so painful, it must have been.
I probably sat in the basement and ate the snacks that had been laid out for the thirty other awaited guests. I probably put down at least a few lbs. worth of Cheetos. I remember really enjoying Cheetos back then. Alternatively, I may have just passed out for 2 hours. I do not remember.
Since then, as a result of that mortifying faux-pas, I have often erred on the side of tardiness for many important events.
Which brings us to Movember 2011. It’s already the 22nd of the month, and I am very late to this party. Do you like how I tied this story to Movember? I hope you did.
I have been growing my moustache, or ‘Mo”, since November 1st, as the Movember rules stipulate. So in a way I haven’t missed the party at all.
Attached is a picture of how I look today, Movember 22nd. Not very pretty. I’ve been getting a lot of strange looks from people. It’s not easy having this thing on my face — ask my girlfriend, who hasn’t even cast me a sideways glance since November 15th.
Worse yet, my moustache is only getting longer, bushier, and more unruly. If I can borrow a quote from the U.S. Navy SEALs, whenever they are asked to describe their brutally intensive training course, they famously state “the only easy day was yesterday.” Having a moustache, I can totally identify with that sentiment.
But at the end of the day, my Mo’ is for a great cause, as you can read about here, http://ca.movember.com/about/, so I press on, all the way to November 30th.
Thanks for taking the time to read this and I really hope you’ll consider donating.
All the best,
Dan
http://www.movember.com/m/160429
22 days into Movember
