|
|
|
From the time girls are teens,
We color and dye
We curl and we wave
We giggle and cry.
We cut our hair short
And then grow it long
Whatever we do
It’s sure to go wrong.
Redheads, brunettes,
Brownettes and blonde,
O’er problems with our hair
Our friendships we bond.
To the UPS store
Hubby and I had to go
To have signatures notarized
Though I’m on chemo.
In the store I reached up
Purse strap to adjust
When I brought my hand down
There to my disgust
There in my hand
Was a wad of hair so big
It could have been made
Into a sizeable wig.
The girl at the counter
Handed me a trash can
There was silence in the store
From every woman and man.
And then to my horror
Another tress to the floor
I turned and I ran
Right out of the door.
Hubby kindly explained
That I’m on chemo
The men simply shrugged
The women screamed “Oh No”.
And as we drove home
Hubby and I in the truck
I called my good friends
And told them my luck.
They were at our front door
These wonderful girls
And with such tender care
Snipped and clipped off my curls.
So that my dear friends,
Is the traitorous story
Of humiliation to me
By “My Crowning Glory”.