Just Call me Pancho Villa

Every time I go to get my eyebrows waxed at a Vietnamese nail salon they ask if I want my lip done. Every time they ask, I get insulted. I would know if I had a mustache, wouldn't I? It turns out, maybe not. I was in my daughters' bathroom tonight, and I got up close to the mirror look at my skin. It was a little bumpy and I was checking for pimples. I found some, but more disturbing, I found several, no, many brown hairs on my upper lip. They couldn't just appear out of nowhere, could they? I tilted my head this way and that, hoping I was wrong; hoping they were the shadows of blond, silky hair. Nope, no shadows. I turned from the medicine cabinet mirror I was looking into and checked the big mirror. In the big mirror they disappeared. In the big mirror they were the soft baby-fine blond hairs I was used to. Turning back to the medicine cabinet mirror made them reappear. It was like some cruel optical illusion. I was upstairs to tuck XX5 into bed when I made this discovery, so I couldn't address it immediately. I finished singing and saying prayers and went downstairs to watch TV with Roser and XX13. As I sat there, I could feel the mustache growing in thicker and darker. My pores ached a little as the hair follicle stretched them. Even with the aching pores, and ever thickening facial hair, I held out hope that when I went up to my own bathroom to get ready for bed, they would be gone. The whole thing would just be an unpleasant hallucination. I was also prepared to believe that if I could not see the mustache, it did not exist. Well, I checked my up till now feminine upper lip, and found that they are there, and they are real. In addition the the mustache, the hairs under my chin are reproducing like Brad and Angelina. It will hurt like a mother to pluck my lip, so I have to get them waxed. I hope Vietnamese facialist are not given to gloating.