My father had a moustache all my life. He had it when he joined the army at 18 and through the rest of his life. Because of this I have a special empathy for anyone who dons the stache. I just assume they are good people if they sport a moustache because my father was such a good man.
I have never had one for much of a stretch of time and never when my mother was with us. I look exactly like my father if I wear one. It would have been too painful for her to see me once he was gone. I did wear one once on a tour to Montreal but shaved it off one evening. When I joined my fellow musicians for breakfast in the morning they all pretty much said “thank god” in unison. So I guess it doesn’t really suit my character as much as I would like.
Frankly I forget I have one every morning until I look in the mirror. It’s a surprise every time. There is no sensation having one. It really is pretty natural and painless. I’ll stick with it this time around unless I hear differently from my superiors. They being my section mates in the bassoons and clarinets and of course my wonderful wife. She has a pretty big say in this. My kids just roll their eyes and I’ve learned to ignore that over the years.