Josh has been working on his beard for the last few weeks.
"I've worked so hard for it... it's fall," he says. So I was cool with it. He kept asking if it was annoying to me yet, and I kept saying that it was fine.
My words, "I'll let you know when it gets to be too much, but for now, I'm fine with it. It's cute."
Him: "I wasn't going for cute."
Me: "Yeah, well, you're cute to me."
[you can go barf now]
Today I come home from lunch and let him know that the beard has got to go. It has grown since I left for work this morning and is just over the top now. It's more than just facial hair... it's an ever-growing-longer beard.
And I just can't handle it.
Him: "I'll shave it under one condition. Let me keep a mustache for a few weeks."
Me: "WHAT?!?!" If there's one thing I dislike more than a beard on my husband, it's a mustache. He's just not a mustache guy. He wouldn't have even had one if he was an adult in the 80s.
Apparently it's got something to do with "Movember" and raising awareness about Prostate Cancer.
Me: "Are you going to wear a shirt that says, "I'm sporting the 'stache to raise awareness about prostate cancer?"
Me: "Then, no."
Him: "But, I've worked so hard on this beard and I love it! It's like asking me to give up a cat that I've had for a few months!"
Ahem. I reach for the laptop.
Him: "No, please don't put this on facebook!"