Do you like being different?

As I should have anticipated, school is busier than I anticipated. I’ve been mustache-less for many days. But last week I went to the contra dance, not to dance but to play in the band, and I put the mustache on. The pick-up band brings folk who don’t come to the other dances, so they hadn’t seen it yet.
I got comments ranging from “Nice mustache,” perplexedly, to “I like your mustache,” amusedly, to “I see you’ve cut your hair… and grown some facial hair….” One person asked, “Did you just come from a costume party?” (To which I replied, simply, “No.”)
But at the break, when I ventured into the crowd of dancers for some cookies, I had the most interesting mustache-related exchange I’ve had since I started this project.
A woman who I’d danced with a few times came up to me and said, “So what’s the mustache for?”
“Oh,” I said, “it’s, uh, kind of, um, it’s sort of a-“
“Are you trying to make a statement?” she said. “Because it’s unconventional? Do you like being different?”
I was surprised that she understood without my having explained.
“Well, just wait ‘til you’re my age and you actually have a mustache,” she said, a little harshly. “I spent a lot of time and effort getting rid of mine. If I’d have known, I would’ve just given it to you!”
I don’t frequently find myself not knowing what to say. I did not know what to say. I think I smiled awkwardly and walked away.
When I find myself not knowing what to say, I think about it and figure it out afterward. But I’ve thought about this and I still don’t know what I could’ve said. A question to my five zombie disciples: what should I have said?

The last day of summer

School starts tomorrow and I really didn’t want to wait any longer, so I put on the mustache today. I got a few weird looks at the office supply store where we bought lined paper and the farm stand where we bought basil. A glance would become a stare for just a few moments. Maybe I was just being paranoid when I thought people were talking about me.
At the ice cream store I was served by a friend who probably knew better than to comment. I forgot that I had anything on my face. I surprised myself when I looked in the mirror. It was heartening. It was what I needed.
“You really have to wear the ‘stache in more controversial places,” said my sister. Do I? If I stay safe and comfortable, am I accomplishing what I want to accomplish? What do I want to accomplish, again?
I guess I can’t figure that out unless I keep this up. It's the tragic last day of summer, and school is going to impede my life, but I’ll try not to be a week before I’m here again.

not today

Today I was going to do the mustache on an outing with my sister and my mom and her friend and her friend's kids to an antique store (read: junk store) far away. I thought that would be good. No one browsing in a junk store is really in a position to make fun of anyone else. And also, since it was FAR AWAY, I would definitely not see anyone I knew.
Except my mom's friend. Today I also had a GSA-related meeting that required me to get back by a certain time. "Don't tell [my friend] what you have to do later," my mom said. "Just tell her you have a meeting."
"Okay," I said, "...why?"
"I don't know if she'd be okay with the concept of GSA."
Oh.
"So I guess I probably shouldn't wear the mustache," I said.
My mom looked horrified. "No! Definitely not! She'll think that [her daughter who's about to start high school] will go to high school and get a mustache!"
I don't even know if she was joking.

"You're fagonizing* her," my sister muttered.
I think I'm fagonizing myself.



*We've been using this word to mean "antagonizing someone by being too gay, whatever that means." Thank you Courtney.