A Mustache fit for Carrot Top

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I am an avid hair removal evangelist. For my 16th birthday, when spoiled bitch ass kids were getting Lamborghinis on My Sweet Sixteen, I was at boarding school wishing for one thing: Laser Hair Removal. Of course at the time it was a far too expensive and unrealistic wish, but at 23 I finally decided I'd just buy it for myself.

Before I got my wish, I had spent years fixing the problem for myself. My best friend Krusty the Clown and I would meet up to wax everything from each others underarms to toe hairs. So over the years, I had become something short of a professional. At least that's what I thought.

After years of waxing my own eyebrows and upper lip I thought this time would be just like the others, quick and easy. Much to my amazement it turned out to be exactly both of those. Quick.... check! Easy..... check!

But hold up.

Wait a second. What's that?

A little redness... well that's normal.

Okay, A LOT of redness.... and burning .... and pain. Uh oh. I'm starting to panic. My upper lip is starting to look like I have two red carpets leading to my nostrils. What the hell went wrong???

Some ice and some sleep with do it, I figured.

I woke up the next morning like most mornings, pissed to NOT be sleeping still. I carried on with my normal pre-work routine including some face washing. The moment that exfoliator hit my mustache it was like a frying pan full of red ants just sizzled my upper lip. I mean it was THAT bad.

I looked in the mirror, and those red carpets had hardened into a shiny layer of new skin that was a beaming tangerine orange. I thought about calling into work sick, but it just wasn't an option at this point. I know, Make up!!! That shit is bound to cover up ugly, after all that's what it's made for.

I spent a good half and hour applying about 16 coats of concealer to my upper lip to no avail. While the concealer concealed the bright orange of the mustache, the shiny new hardened skin that lay beneath was now crusty and protruding. It didn't help that it was probably the hottest day of the summer and I kept sweating my mustache make up right off. It's safe to say that I looked pretty disgusting.

When I arrived to the parking lot of work (aka the mall), I applied another quick coat of mustache cover up. As I ran out of my car in a frenzy, a truck pulled just behind my car. A familiar face stopped me in the car. Dammit! It was the cute ass foreign guy I just met over the weekend. Frick! I swear I never see people in the parking lot... NOT EVER. And of course the day I have a mustache fit for Carrot Top I see one of the only cute guys on this cute guy forsaken island. Shit! It's just my luck. Now what the hell am I gonna do?

We start trying to communicate. Not only is english obviously his second language, but it didn't help that I was talking with my hand sprawled over my mouth like I was spitting a rhymes. I must've looked like the biggest dork, trying to not only figure out what the hell he was talking about, and then what to say next, but how in the freakin hell I was gonna cover up this upper lip of mine. We chatted briefly about the World Cup, i think... and then I wrapped it up real quick saying "welp, gotta go to work" and sort of just ran away, like out of the blue too. All I knew was I couldn't possibly stand there a second longer with this cute foreign guy, lest he start to notice my shiny mustache.

I was completely mortified. I ran up to work to tell the first coworker I saw what had just happened. I run in to see our only two male coworkers Dreamlover and The Entertainer standing at the counter with our other coworker Shy girl. I run in, completely stressed and embarrassed and ready to explain my story when I look at Dreamlover to see him sporting a bright neon orange paper cut out of a mustache on his upper lip. What in the hell is going on this business??? The irony was enough to make a girl sigh and run to the office. I mean, seriously... what are the odds?

My lil melodrama caused questioning from the coworkers. I didn't know which was worse, the fact that I had to admit to my male coworkers that I have to wax my upper lip, or the fact that I had a mustache fit for Carrot Top. And to rub salt in the wound, there's Dreamlover, standing there with a friggen orange paper mustache. What the eff???

While I explained the story, Dreamlover slowly reached his hand up to his paper mustache and tried removing it inconspicuously. I had to laugh.

I just hope this shit doesn't scar.