I’ve done something incredibly stupid: I’ve agreed to grow a moustache during November to boost awareness of prostate cancer.
I’m definitely not moaning about the charitable side of things – I’ve known people affected by this disease and will unfortunately learn to know more – It’s just that I will look a complete and utter fool. I’m no Magnum.
I’ve previously sported a ‘tache for what must have been two days (in a bid to look like a retro football coach for a fancy dress pub crawl around Sheffield), but it was promptly shaved off in the realisation that I looked like a pervert.
I remember being in the gym with my similarly, and admittedly more impressively, moustachioed friend Jason the day after the crawl. In between my inspiring little finger pull-ups and inadvertently setting the rowing machine ablaze from my sheer power, men – a term I use loosely given that they left their chosen muscle-making machines in tact – would study Jason and myself, contemplating if we were being ironic or, in fact, we were child molesters.
Now, I must make this clear, I am not speaking ill of the moustachioed masses, man or woman; quite the opposite: you have my unwavering respect. Especially for my mother, Jackie: that, my dear, is a real beauty.
Fact is: I don’t suit a moustache; that is all.
Think of all the historical greats who sported fur under their noses: Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, or the most influential newscaster of the twentieth century, Ron Burgundy. And even the footballing greats: ex-Liverpool defender now-media doom-monger Mark Lawrenson, salad-dodging former Everton goalkeeper Neville Southall, and, more recently, Arsenal legend David Seaman. It’s a clear presentation of rugged manliness (Seaman’s ponytail aside) that I, with facial hair that a cat could lick off, can only aspire to.
And what about prostate cancer? It is the most common cancer with men: 1 in 7 Canadians will be diagnosed with it, with incidence and mortality similar to that of breast cancer in woman.. However, it’s over 90% curable if it is detected and treated in its earliest stages.
So, in the same way that Montreal Canadiens’ Carey Price sported a pink helmet to boost breast cancer awareness, I believe every man should look stupid – or indeed good if you can cultivate decent facial fungus (…yes, I’m bitter) – for just a month in a move that could save many lives.
I want to hear of your Movember exploits; feel free to contact me on Twitter or via email (links under my rather angry-looking mug shot) letting me know how it’s growing, the funny looks you receive, and the wonderful styles you can shape out of that rodent on your upper lip.
For more info on Movember in Toronto, visit www.toyourmo.com; or for all of Canada: http://ca.movember.com/.
Happy growth.
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