I still remember the first person to point out my mustache. His name was Daniel [last named redacted] and he was a farmer with a thick, thick country accent. We were at a high school event, and he was holding a saxophone when he turned to me and said, “Fluter, I believe you’ve got more facial hair than I do.” At the time, it seemed to come out of the blue, and it felt like a slap in the face.
Life was different then, and I was immediately mortified. My mother wasn’t the sort who paid professionals to cut hair, much less do optional beauty treatments, but when I came home in tears, she was kind enough to relent ... on her terms, of course. (True story: she would only take me once every three months, even if I paid for it. I do not remember why.) It was one of the few times she took me to a place and paid a professional, and as thrilled as I was to have the mustache gone, I was terrified of having anybody know I was such a furry, disgusting troll that it needed to be waxed in the first place.
In short: I did not wake up like this. And I thought it was shameful.
I would go into hiding until after the red marks faded, and would never tell anyone where I was going. The day I ran into the future homecoming queen (and current bully) getting her highlights done, I ran out in absolute horror that she would tell everyone. She did, and I was the talk of the school for weeks. (True story: This bitch was just at a birthday party with my sibling, and told the sibling’s SO what great friends we were in high school. I would set her on fire if I could.)
Maybe this is all indicative of normal adolescent angst, but a coworker just asked me where I was headed, and I responded, “To get my lip waxed.”
TMI? Maybe. But it hardly warranted his response. He literally recoiled, and actually said, “I can’t believe you’re telling people that.”
I shrugged and walked off, but I’m still wondering: Dude, where do you think the hair goes? I’m super fair-skinned, dark-haired, and uh ... literally thousands of women do this.
You guys can feel sorry for dude’s unenlightened ways all you want, but I’m going to sit here and bask in the following:
I am over 30 now, and I am more and more comfortable with the fact that society thinks I am gross.
Hi, my name is Fluter. I’m furry and disgusting, and IDGAF.