Changing by a hair

The one thing I can count on from my love is to find humour in almost anything in life.  This is just one of the traits I fell in love with.  I couldn't be in love with someone who was anything less than a big ol' dork.  Silly people need each other.

It would be impossible to live an entire life span too seriously.  'You', my imaginary friend, got to see what happens when life gets too serious.  Cookie binging, La-Z-Boy body fusing, swollen aging eyes and jeans that now fit a bit too tight.

Seriousness has hurt my confidence.

I can see that my personality is returning, because Papi has decided to rib me with as many penis connotations that we could possibly encounter in one day.  Thank god my love isn't going to go for the nasty phalloplasty.  That would definitely be a deal breaker.  That thing would not come any where near me, I can promise you that.

There was also a lot of joking about the potential moustache that could be barging into my soft, smooth realm of kisses.  All I see in the word moustache is the last four letters: ache.

ugh.

I do NOT look forward to this phenomenon of my perfect butch changing over and having a fuzzy, Brillo pad scratching my delicate lips every time I want a little of my love's sugar.

Papi had asked me to look and see if there were any changes to mi esposo's lip hair.  I wouldn't do it.

"No!!!" I said, with that playful stubbornness that says to my love, I don't want to look, but I'm not taking the possibility of the caterpillar so hard that I can't laugh.

This went on for a few minutes until I finally took a half hearted look and said,"Honey I have more of a moustache than you do, sorry to say."  We were having a very sweet day together and I didn't really want to dive into 'it' quite yet.

The evening came and we did our very best to snuggle on a 'love seat' that is usually inhabited by one person; the grandmother who is out in Calgary while they put our house back together because of the sewage flood.  This couch is only one of 3 pieces of furniture left in this skeleton of a house.

I finally found a position that was soft and supportive to my still healing back and then it happened.  I saw it.  There it was.  A little strand sticking out of my love's beautiful upper lip that didn't belong.

The teenager wanted to pretend to be oblivious to it.  Remember?  If you ignore it, it will just go away.

But the developing adult couldn't help herself and blurted out with a knee jerk reaction, "Oh my god!!!"

It startled Papi, but when my love looked at me to see what the problem was, it was obvious that I was staring at the area where a moustache could be.

My love bellowed, "It's there isn't it?!?!"

I felt ambushed and had to admit it, "Oh my god there's a hair."  One burly black hair, that tried to imitate a whisker sticking out like a stunned Great Dane in a sea of Chihuahuas.

There it was.

A 'man hair'.

Papi was rejoicing while I, with love, all I could do was sit there and laugh at the reaction.

"I told you!  I told you!  It's changing!  I'm getting a moustache!"

I couldn't be upset.  I couldn't be angry.  I couldn't be repulsed by the antenna-like feeler.

I could only smile that my love was so sweetly impressed by this one quill.

One solitary bristle.

That's all I have to accept on this day.