A few years ago I grew a ‘stache. It was ridiculous. Everyone laughed at me. Three people knew I was doing it ironically. The rest of the world thought I was a creep. Or a gay porn star. Truth is I can’t grow a beard. I can but it would take me a few years, which would be just long enough to lose my job, my wife and my dignity. And I would look like this Al Qaeda operative.


So you can imagine how ecstatic I was to learn about the Movember movement which seems to be reviving the lip toupee. It was started by a couple of drunk Aussies a decade ago (In Australia a mustache is sometimes called a “Mo”) and since it’s inception has become one of the largest NGO’s in the world, contributing to research on Prostate Cancer, Testicular Cancer and raising awareness to Men’s Mental Health issues. So the rules are simple: Start November clean shaven. No beards or goatees. Grow a mustache and help raise awareness for a serious men’s health issue. How? People will ask you about the mouth brow. Trust me. They will. And then you can tell them that prostate cancer is the most common cancer in men. And how every hour a man dies of prostate cancer. How by 2030 prostate cancer will be the most common form of cancer. And why there is such little awareness of this and other men’s health issues in general. But all that aside here are 10 excellent reasons why I shouldn’t grow a mustache (but will be doing it anyway… follow me on twitter @privategilberto for a daily shot of my ‘stache)

1. I’ll resemble a pedophile. Which is extremely problematic for me since I spend a great deal of time in and around playgrounds, gymborees and ice cream parlors. I make sure to keep within ten meters of D. lest some overzealous soccer mom call the police. Again.

2. My dad did it better. In the 1980’s my dad rocked the cookie duster and sideburns and had a striking resemblance to Tom Selleck from Magnum PI. I would look more like… well, probably Borat.


3. My mom’s suspicions will finally be confirmed. I used to have this theory that under a certain age, say 40, any man who rocks a lip tickler is most likely gay. Then came the hipsters and made face furniture cool, and hip. And ironic. But my mom doesn’t know about hipsters, all she chooses to remember is the time I got a manicure with her.

4. I’ll look like a complete douchebag. Which is fine. All seven readers of this blog know I act like one so I might as well look the part.

5. My productivity at work will decrease significantly. Not because I’ll be busy explaining myself to co-workers and my boss but because I’ll be sitting around twirling it all day. Which is probably a better use of my hands than the current alternative.

6. It will take me an entire month to grow anything that resembles a molestache. At which point this whole ridiculousness will have ended. And I’ll be left with a pathetic little snot mop. And somebody will ask me. And I’ll lie and tell them it’s for Douchebag December. A charity that I’m starting raising awareness for moobs. Which is a very serious men’s health issue.

7. I spend waaaaaay too much time as it is with grooming products. Seriously. Which brings me back to article 3 and my mom’s sneaking suspicion that I’m a gay. Let me explain. I was a terribly misguided teenager with a unibrow. Someone made fun of it. So I shaved off the middle with a Bic disposable razor. Not smart. It grew back with a vengeance. Ever since then I’ve been forced to tweezer the unibrow. And put mousse in my hair so I can look like Charlie Sheen pre tiger blood and winning. Major League Charlie Sheen. And then there’s the talc powder. In the taintal region. Because I sweat on my bike and I need to keep it dry down there. And then there’s the manscaping. Which every man should do. And then add the grooming of the soup strainer? It took Johnny Depp less time to become Edward Scissorhands than it does for me to go to work in the morning.

8. My wife won’t let kiss me kiss her anymore. On either set of lips. It tickles her. And I love my wife. And I do a lot of stupid shit on a daily basis. Like pee all over the floor first thing in the morning (and then blame my son). Or fart in bed. Or pick my nose. And eat it. While I’m driving. Because I’m a disgusting, filthy human being. And I need her to forgive me for whatever gross thing I’ve done and I know that once we’ve kissed it’s as good as forgiven. Until the next horrible indiscretion of course.

9. It will force me talk to men about their private parts. Which I hate doing. Especially random men I would never talk to. Like the butcher. Or the fish monger. Or any man that has a sharp or blunt weapon.

10. There are a ton of other causes to support that are closer to my heart than prostate cancer. Like multiple sclerosis. My uncle has been living with it for over thirty years and it has decimated his body and, at times, his spirit. He was once a highly accomplished attorney who argued a case in from of the US supreme court. Now he is difficult to understand. Unintelligible. Or heart disease. My grandfather died of a heart attack and judging by my current life choices (namely bacon, booze and joints) I’ll be joining him real soon.

I encourage everyone, everyone to go to the Movember website to learn more about this amazing initiative they call “changing the face of men’s health”. I also encourage you to rock that mustache proudly and help raise awareness. Some of the greatest Jews that ever lived rocked the mustache. Albert Einstein. Groucho Marx. Salvador Dali. And of course the sexiest, most athletic Jew of all time. Mark Spitz.


Even though I’m only using this as an excuse to grow a rollie fingers and I’m not actually raising any money for anyone or anything, I encourage you to go to the Movember Israel Facebook page and see how you can contribute to one of these amazing charities.

So wear those whiskers with pride and remember to steer clear of playgrounds.