Some people say he looks like Borat.
He thinks so too, and perhaps he does, but I am just glad he’s not adopting the full Borat ensemble.
Dad’s moustache was reliable. I could depend on it being there, just like Dad’s there for me (“you’ll always be my baby, even when you’re 30”, he’s said.).
His moustache has been there every Christmas, holiday and of course all those times we’ve bonded over cleaning up dog poo or having a disagreement over the PayTV channels (he’s wanted Coronation Street, I’ve wanted anything but).
So when I set off on my big adventure, I was confused when he met me at the airport. Dad flew to Tasmania the same day I flew to London, so he drove down to Melbourne and met Mum and I at the airport and we spent time together as a family before I got on the plane.
We were in the check in queue when Mum said “there’s Dad”. Where? I couldn’t see him. There was a man in Dad-like clothes, but no, that couldn’t be him!
Now I am not very good at recognising people, and I also only see Dad about four times a year. Surely I couldn’t have forgotten what my Dad looks like?
“Where is he?” I asked Mum. “There” she told me and pointed. Dad waved. Then Mum told me he had shaved off his moustache recently, after he had a little slip of the razor.
Mum hasn’t known Dad without a moustache either, so I asked her if it’s like being with a new husband. She said it did take a bit of getting used to. She’s been happily married to a moustached man for 31 years.
And so after check in, I ran out under the queue barrier to see Dad, we gave each other bear hugs, and I couldn’t stop staring at this ‘new’ Dad of mine. I had never seen his whole face!
Has your relative ever changed their looks drastically and it took a bit of getting used to?