Caught By My Wife - She Knows That I Have Mustache Plans

I have been caught.  My wife knows that I am going to do something with my mustache – but she does not know quite what.

Keeping the secret

My plan was to just proceed with growing out my mustache and wait for her to say something.  My fear was that if I suggested a handlebar, she would immediately nix the idea, laugh, or otherwise tell me that it was stupid and that I wouldn’t look good in it.  Right now my mustache is shorter than it has been at some times in the past, so had I not mentioned anything, or unless she stumbled across this blog, she would have no idea. ... Or so I thought

Getting caught

Here’s what happened.  In preparing for yesterday’s blog post (you know, the most BORING BLOGPOST EVER!  with  mustache measurements), I took my wife’s tape measure and hid it in my bathrobe pocket to be snuck back into the sewing box later.  But, I did not plan my return well enough because we had out-of-town company arriving that night, and she went to move my things to the other bathroom so that the guests would have their own space.  This included moving my bathrobe.
 

 

“Honey, why is my measuring tape in your bathrobe pocket?”

 … think, what can I say that will be believable, not a lie, yet not revealing my plan. … long pause…

 “Honey? …”

 

“Yeah, I was taking some measurements and was going to put it right back.”  I replied, knowing that was not going to be an acceptable answer… but at least it bought some time for me to think.

 

“What were you measuring?”

 “Um…, pause…”  think, what plausible reason is there that I would have her measuring tape in my bathrobe in the bathroom … nothing ... nada … no ideas.  “I was… measuring my … mustache”.

 

“Huh?... Why?” – she gave me that puzzled look that says that she believes me (no one could possible lie about doing something so weird), but also asks why would anyone ever want to do that. This was the same look she always give me when she thinks that I am completely out of my mind, but she loves me anyway.

What good reasons could I possibly give, “I was just messing around”

 “What are you going to do with it?”

 “ I am just experimenting”

“Well, I do stuff with my hair all of the time … so have fun.  I really do like your mustache”.

 Quick… close the conversation with a nice long mustachey kiss. 

 No more questions asked, and I now have permission to grow the handlebars.