Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Me and My Moustache: Another Embarrassing Story

Yes, this is another of my true-life embarrassing stories. I know there have already been plenty of other humiliating incidents like the lost car, the tights falling down and being caught short and dropping my knickers on the railway track... but these moments still keep on happening. It's probably a curse.

Perhaps someone, somewhere, has cursed me. In fact I'm now so worried about the possibility of a curse I'm beginning to think Tom Cruise is getting me back for all those tasteless jokes I've made about him. They were only small, almost unnoticeable, jokes - that's why I thought he wouldn't really mind. But now I'm not so sure. What if Tom really is some bad-ass tough guy like Jack Reacher?

Okay..maybe not.  It's probably just bad luck: I've just remembered the laws of probability.

So anyway...before Christmas Master Ben was in dire need of a haircut. I wasn't going to put up with anymore feeble excuses and decided to take a firm hand and frogmarched him into the barbers which in the run up to Christmas was pretty busy. Now this is a barbers which is principally a male barber's shop but will occasionally cut women's hair if they're not busy or if you look kinda...masculine but aren't masculine. If you know what I mean.

By the by, I am actually almost too scared now to say words like "lesbian" and "homosexual" these days in case someone takes them out of context and decides to nail me to a lamp post by my nipples.This is one of the reasons why I'm not on Twitter where I might spontaneously say something politically incorrect and be lambasted for all eternity. I'm told Twitter is the place to be for aspiring writers but as my mouth is sometimes bigger than my brain it's probably not in my best long term interests.

So back to my story...

Master Ben and I are awaiting his turn in the barber's chair. It's been a long wait and there are now two barbers, two clients in the chairs and two other clients in the waiting area alongside us.

Master Ben: The women's haircuts are more expensive.

Mrs T (Looking up at the price board) I know - but it's still cheaper than my hairdressers down the road where it costs a lot more.

Master Ben: But why do they charge more for women's haircuts?

Mrs T: Well....ladies' hairdressing saloons are usually a bit more luxurious... and it can take much longer to cut ladies' hair.... and (keeping voice low so the barbers don't overhear) women on the whole are more vain so they tend to get more easily ripped off.

( I know - it was a tad cruel to be mean about my own sex but I figured I might as well break it to Master Ben now - that way he can have the pre-nup in place first time around.  And if he earns a tonne of cash when he's older hopefully he'll still have some spare to support his old mum rather than than several high maintenance ex-wives.)

Master Ben: But your hair is short. Why should you pay more? (pauseWhy don't you pretend you're a man?

Mrs T (Momentarily flabbergasted) Umm... because I look like a woman?

Master Ben: But you have a moustache.

(Slight pause as Mrs T contemplates a) suicide b) putting Master Ben up for adoption and c) pretending to be deaf.

Mrs T: Well I do have very dark hair....

 (Mrs T is now as bright as a pickled beetroot but trying desperately to look totally nonchalant )

Master Ben: And you have a beard.

(Mrs T's hand immediately flies to chin to check for giant facial hairs whilst turning a deep puce and feeling the stirrings of a panic attack.)

Mrs T: ********* ****** *********!!!*******!!!!!!

 ( It's not expletives - I just can't actually remember what as I said - I was too distressed.)

Master Ben: But in the sun I can see blonde hairs beneath your lip!

Mrs T: *************Ummmm.......********  Ahhhhhh.....******

 (I said something but again I can't remember what - probably some unintelligible dribble as by this time I was practically an incoherent red mass of blubber on the floor.)

Master Ben: You could wear a baggy jumper and no one could see your....(giggles)...no one could see that you're a woman.

Mrs T: (Still trying to be nonchalant) I still think people could tell I'm a woman.

Master Ben: But no one's going to check.

Mrs T: I suppose so. (Anything to shut the kid up.)

Master Ben: Well they're not going to look down your pants.

Mrs T: Oh look it's the football highlights......

It's a sad fact of life that as women get old they get hairier and as men get old they go bald.  Currently, I'm offering my facial hair for sale on Ebay. It's the  ideal birthday gift for any man considering a hair transplant as it will replicate and get thicker on a daily basis. And - just in case anyone asks - my pubic hair is not for sale. A woman has to have some self respect.

Finally, I just want to confirm that conversation really did happen. Now I know some of  you will now be thinking one of the following:

a) I need a shave


b) Master Ben sounds so sweet and innocent he probably didn't really mean to embarrass me in front of six men and push me to the edge of a violent and bloody suicide.

To which I answer:

a) My life would be a lot easier as a man. However, I swear to God I am not as gross as I sound. In fact about 25 years ago I once got my arse pinched twice on the same day. The fact they were both school kids is totally irrelevant.

b) Master Ben is about as sweet and innocent as Dita Von Teese. I saw his face. That boy will go far, believe me.


  1. Dear Mrs T, I do, do sympathize. Certainly Master Ben does notsound innocent. BTW, how old is he?

  2. Sue - What can I say - I wish I was blonde!

    He was 12 earlier this month. I find it hard to chastise him though for his underhand methods - he is such entertainment. There's never a dull moment when he's around:)


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