Hair make my #DovePlay
Ahh!!!! When I see hair like this it makes me want to scream – with envy.
Why isn’t that girl frumpy, old me?
What did I do to get the hair I have?
When I was young my hair was thick, black curly with a mind of its own.
And I suffered for years I suffered
being called moppet, a golliwog (which thankfully has since been debarred from regular speech as strictly unparliamentary and very, very politically incorrect)
and horror of horrors even Indira Gandhi!
Alas! how I longed for hair that was long, lustrous and strong
Tresses over which a Prince could climb to like Rapunzel in the tower.
But no, not for me was this ever to be –
It was kept short,
Just short enough be girlie
Not long enough to tie up.
And every two weeks I’d be marched off to the salon
To have my hair thinned and tamed.
And to keep out the creepy, crawlies as my mother claimed.
How I dreaded those trips which cut my hair short
and swore to keep it long when I was old enough to do so.
And now, when I’m older and can manage my hair
it has become thin and fly away, soft and wavy and still has a mind of its own…..
It can’t grow longer than an inch past my shoulder and I still want it to be
Soft, long and silky, with a bit of a curl and watch it swirl
as I play with my grandchild when I swing him around.
I’d like my hair to be velvety smooth, smelling of vanilla instead of garlicky oil.
To be bouncy and healthy and perfectly cut
Falling in layers just framing my face
Dancing round my shoulder
And kissing the breeze,
Staying just the way it is meant to
Not like a mop or a frizzed toilet brush.
Making me feel gorgeous, empowered and feminine
Mysterious and serious
Like a goddess divine
With streaks of quicksilver that glint in the sun
And define with distinction a thick, glorious bun
That sits on the nape of my neck
Demure and dignified on an exceptional day.
So what stops it from being my crowning glory?
Lack of time and perhaps vanity that makes me suffice
With a bi-annual quick trim
And a bi-weekly wash