Stache' Sporting

I knew I was going to shave or at least trim my beard for some pictures for my photography class. However, I failed to be prepared for the feelings I got when I cut it it down to a mustache.
"Who is that man in the mirror, now?"
I could not stop laughing as I buzzed off all but the stache'.  I looked like a completely different person, like a real man.  When I had the beard, my face looked more narrow. Now, it looks littler and rounder. Untrustworthy. I walked out of the bathroom and they both laughed. Possibly out of fear, because maybe I had a gun in my pants or some candy I might use to lure into a garage or van. Paul liked it, and Brigid did not.
"For photographs, its fine, but get rid of it before you go out in the world, okay?" she gently pleaded. Something happened to me as we took those pictures. Some kind of power, like I knew everything in the world, including the cougar-attack facts and how to beat people up with (without even touching them). It scared me.
As I brushed my teeth tonight before bed, I worked on my faces in the mirror. Normally, they are just silly ones that make me laugh and other people ask if I am lost. These faces though, were new and I did not know them well.
They were dirty.
Mysterious. Like a sketchy salesman selling designer jeans out the back of his pick-up truck, behind the high school. Chicks, man.
I didn't trust him.....and yet, something about him, this person who was me, but not, at the same time, opened me up to the possibility of a new world. A new life of fortune and glory. A life full of corner-standing, chick-grabbing, Stache' sporting, adventure. -Something I have never had.
Maybe, when I go out into the world tomorrow,  people will fear me, or at least, not ask for spare change. Maybe I will hold my head up high and say,
"I dare you not to look."
Or, "Yeah, my pants are tight, my shades are dark and I have a man-bulge, what of it, jack?"
-All with the eyes, the stach' and the uncontrollable need for babes.