Fu-Manchu

This is just a warning for all those people who will be seeing Brett and me in the next few days.

This morning, my fashion-forward (and normally sane) husband shaved his mustache into a Fu-Manchu.

I, of course, took the high road of any submissive, supportive wife.

I said, “What did you do to your face? You look like a cheesy used-car salesman out of 1972.”

Considering what I was actually thinking, it was the kindest thing I could have said.

My husband said, “You don’t like it?”

I said, “Were you trying to look like a cheesy used-car salesman out of 1972?”

Pointed look from Roy, Used Car Salesman.

I said, “Remember how when we first started dating, and you wore that bandanna tied around your head, and I laughed so hard I cried? Then after you took it off, your roommate thanked me?”

Roy - still giving me the evil eye.

I went on, “Remember after we started dating, I asked you to cut your long hair and shave your Grizzly Adams beard? Remember how your Mom called me, even though she didn’t know me, to thank me?”

“Well, I like it,” said Roy stroking the ‘chu and making my stomach queasy. “Besides, how would you like it if I made fun of how you looked?”

“Babe, I don’t mean to pull rank here, but if one of us knows fashion and trends it’s me, not you, Mr.-Stuck-In-The-80’s.” I said. “Remember how you tried to talk me into wearing hats at our wedding. Hats!”

(He did in fact try to get me to ask my bridesmaids to wear big, floppy hats – which was apparently all the rage in the 80’s when his brother got married. I have never let him forget this.)

“Fine! I’m going to get my hair cut today, and I’ll just ask the stylist if she thinks it looks stupid,” Brett said, storming out of our bedroom.

“As opposed to your WIFE?” I yelled down the stairs.

Now, I love our stylists. They are wonderful people. But they are also fond of pink hair, mohawks, body piercing, and canvas-size tattoos. I’m afraid Brett will leave Cost-Cutters believing his new Fu-Manchu is the height of hirsute fashion.

Though presumably not a pink Mohawk.

Oh dear, NOT a pink Mohawk!

Roy has not yet shaved it off. He thinks it looks cool.

It will go a long way to discourage this travesty if you’ll all join with me in calling him Roy, or at least ask if he knows a nice place to buy a used car.

Trust me, after you see it, you’ll thank me.