l'aventure du moustache commence!

day four.

now, for whatever reason i'm not quite sure, i thought it would be great to start off the new year by trying to grow a moustache (and, yes, i will use the french spelling of it from here on out...  because i feel the "o" adds a certain amount of european arrogance to my stupid little project).  while my facial hair tends to usually come in rather sparse and generally unattractive patches, i have at one point managed to grow a beard, albeit the creation more or less functioned as facsimile for an emaciated ferret glued to my chin and neck.  the bottom line goes as follows:  at twenty one years of age, how can i claim myself any sort of frenchman if i've never sported a proper moustache?  herein, the chronicling commences.  

day four exhibits the beginning phase of the moustache.  upon close inspection of this pale, pale... pale upper lip, one can faintly trace the outline of a blonde-ish follical explosion... like those first triumphant springtime blades of grass that fight their way up through the cold and break through their snowy prison to breathe in the chill, sunny air... or... what?  that doesn't happen.  grass doesn't grow through the snow.  what a horrible attempt at creating an epic metaphor.  regardless--the show is on the road here.  

i'm into it.