I have a problem in which I can't grow a real mustache.
I get this patchy mess of blonde and brown hairs every time I attempt to grow a mustache. I just want a nice Tom Selleck mustache. I'll even settle for the Larry Bird mustache. I don't care. I just want the real deal.
I see many people walking around with mustaches. I see Jason Lee on TV with an all-pro mustache, and I just want to put my face behind that spurt of hair for one day. I even sport the goatee to help with the grieving process. I call it "a mustache for my chin." Sadly, the goatee just isn't cutting it anymore.
Whenever I flip through my U.S. Presidents book, I see all the great presidential mustaches. Grover Cleveland's mustache covered his mouth. I bet he had to lift up his mustache so he could eat. John Tyler did not have a mustache. Perhaps he could not grow a legitimate mustache, and maybe I have something in common with the old Whig.
I know this is a real problem for men under the age of 13. If we put our tax dollars to good use, I'm sure the medical community can come up with some sort of treatment plan for us. After all, I want to see a mustache on my future son's fifth grade yearbook picture.
However, I'm not greedy. I'm not asking for the Rollie Fingers curly Q mustache. I just want a little something up there. I want croutons trapped in my mustache when I eat a salad. I deserve to be able to rub my mustache when I'm thinking about an answer to the Daily Double in Jeopardy.
Also, I want my mustache to greet people.
"Hello madam," my mustache will say. "Care for some fine tea?"
I know I want a mustache. Often times I put my arm up to my face so I can experience how a mustache would feel. The feeling is enormously wonderful. I just hope that by March Mustache Madness 2007, I am ready.
Ryan Lorenzo is a journalism senior. Reach him at ryan.lorenzor@asu.edu.
