'Stache

I am not a fan of mustaches. Never have been. Never will be. I think they look ridiculous on just about everyone: men, women, children, and anyone else I've left out. My honey knows this and takes advantage of it just to bug me.

The first time I saw a picture of my honey with a mustache, I laughed out loud (he was clean-shaven when we met). I think he looks super sexy with a beard (there's a first time for everything; facial hair really doesn't work on everybody), but when he shaved off his beard and left the 'stache (it was "Movember"), I cringed. It looks so creepy on him that I have nicknamed it the Molestache.

Unfortunately, he has decided (or so he says) that he wants the Molestache to appear at our wedding. Wedding pictures featuring a creepy mustache? No, thank you. About a week ago, he started shaving around the Molestache, supposedly to get it nice and thick for our wedding. If you look closely in our photos from this weekend, which are going to appear on our Save the Date cards, you'll see it.

When he kissed me goodbye on his way to work this morning, I felt something.

"You shaved it?"
"Mmhmm."
"You mean you just grew it so it would be in the picture for our Save the Date cards?"
"Yup."

Thankfully, this means I may not see the Molestache again for a little while. Unless my honey decides (erroneously) that it would be cool to go for the "Spring 'Stache." Sigh.