My hair and I have had a long and tempestuous relationship. I recently cut my hair and I remembered a poem that I wrote to my hair while I was in college.
To My Hair
I work with you every day. No results.
Clinging to my head.
I’ve tried to curl you,
Dye you,
Rat you,
Even cut you short.
You refuse to cooperate.
Blow dryers, gel, mousse, and hair spray cannot help.
I refuse to end up like the old ladies at the
Harmon’s Customer Service desk,
Blue tinted hair, ratted five inches high
Over a gleaming scalp.
I warn you, I am looking at wigs.
