Once a year my wife lets me shave a mustache. I use the word “lets” very loosely. She chooses not to change the locks to our house on the one day a year I shave the caterpillar of doom. The truth cannot be denied: it is a nasty feature on my face. Even so, once a year I elect to desecrate myself and risk my marriage.
In the past my mustache day has corresponded with pheasant hunting season. This year I may use up my prickly grace for a good cause: the Mustache Dache in Sioux Falls. On July 12, 2014 hundreds of men, women, and children (some with real facial hair) will race five kilometers in an attempt to raise money for men’s health. According to the web site (http://mustachedache.com/), funds go to a battery of ailments facing men: testicular cancer, prostate cancer, mental health, etc.
There’s a certain logic to it all. Who wants to think about the prostate, that funky little piece of flesh controlling the tubes down in the nether-regions? No one. But each time a disturbing mustache flashes into view, people can say to themselves, “As much as I don’t want to consider it, there are man-parts in need of care. Especially in men.”