Mustache Mischief Managed

So yesterday was a hard day. I was feeling really low, and even allowed myself a few tears. Just a few, because, like I said before, I didn't want a red puffy face for my meeting at the school. That would be so embarrassing- to look like a freak in front of the counselor, principal, and about 7 teachers. Who would want to do that?
So instead of crying, I messed around with my makeup in my new bathroom. Attached to the wall in my new master bath, is one of those lighted mirrors that magnifies your face like crazy. It's horribly disgusting and fascinating- every blemish, every stray hair stands out like a neon sign. I spied some tweezers and went to town, blissfully distracted from my sorrows. I glanced at the clock and gasped. How time had flown! I dashed out the door and drove to the school. I ended up being early and I took a last quick peek in the car mirror. What I saw turned my blood to ice: a bright red mustache on my upper lip, and my eyebrows were glowing crimson. Oh, the plucking!!! It's a good think I didn't cry and make myself look like a weirdo, right?
I cast around for an idea. "I know," I thought, "I should rub my face and pinch my cheeks so my whole face looks equally red!" Genius. I did just that. I was sporting a very, very healthy glow when I breezed into the school. I had to wait a few minutes for the teachers to arrive, so I nonchalantly strolled past a mirrored wall to check the damage. Dang! I was every bit as mustachioed! I rubbed, rubbed and rubbed some more, hoping against hope that by the time the teachers made it, my features would look normal again. Then I saw the drinking fountain. Cool water! That HAD to help. I bathed my hands and rubbed my face. As I straightened up, I saw a group of teachers had gathered, waiting for me. One approached me with an outstretched hand. "Hi! Pleased to meet you, sorry, my hand is wet." Doh. Does it get any dorkier? I was stuck. I went into the meeting, feeling like I was on the way to my own execution. During the meeting, every time they looked at me, I was sure they were thinking, "What's wrong with her face? Poor thing, she must have a skin condition." I fancied I could see the sympathy in their eyes. I tried to cover for myself, looking contemplative and rubbing my upper lip, but I knew it was no use.
I drug my feet as I made my way to the car, inwardly cringing at what I would see in the car mirror. I sat down, took a deep breath, and peeked at the swollen horror that was my face. I looked totally normal- except my cheeks had a rather healthy glow. I laughed all the way home.