…or rather, a stranger man.

I woke up this morning and my husband had shaved his moustache off.   Apparently, according to the costumer for the latest opera he is in, his Evil Enchanter is more Evil-Enchanter-ish sans moustache.  So off it came.

My husband has been totally bald with a moustache and goatee for the entire 10+ years we have been together. I prefer him bald – I have seen him with hair, and frankly, it’s not pretty.

But without the moustache, he looks just plain odd.  Not bad, really.  But certainly not “better”, at least to me.

My husband points out that he looks like Scott Ian, the rhythm guitarist for Anthrax – only grayer,  not as buff,  and totally missing the rock-and-roll factor.  I added this last bit.  I will take the heat later.  As a measure of full disclosure, he does play mean Guitar Hero.

It feels funny to kiss him.  

There’s an old Scottish saying that kissing a man withouth a moustache is like eating porridge without salt.

I like my porridge salty, thank-you-very-much.

(PS – they wanted him to have a widow’s peak, too, but realized that there’s only so much the Hair Club for Men can do on short notice.)