Hair Part II — The Mane Event
Hopefully the Final Chapter of Pandemic Hair
There are some things that I am missing,
Restaurants and bars, even air kissing.
There is one thing I find quite pleasing,
And that’s my brows, which I’ve stopped tweezing.
For twenty years, to look my best,
I’ve put my brows through quite the test.
No doubt the screens obscure my face,
So my brows seem not out-of-place.
My husband cannot seem to tell,
That I’ve escaped from my own hell.
(It’s fair to say he does not care
To dwell upon my facial hair.
“Are squids a mollusk?” asks my man,
“Ask Google that,” I subtly pan.)
So begone tweezers! See you later!
(I’m no longer a moustache hater.
Since my brow hairs I do not tame,
What right have I to judge and shame?)
In early days, I did so try
To give my hair a rainbow dye.
That project did not seem to work,
I missed peroxide; What a jerk!
Our hairscapades are not one-sided,
My husband was oh-so-excited
When he found the clippers in the spring,
And gave them to me to do my thing.
I took it short on the sides, down to a zero,
Left it long in the middle, he was my hero.
When the office re-opened, my bike I did ride,
Then run to the bathroom to clean up inside.
While washing was the rule of the day,
We couldn’t enter the shower bay.
I’d cleanse myself with wet wipe-showers,
And mask the smell with perfume flowers.
I couldn’t do much for helmet head,
I looked like I’d just rolled out of bed.
I’m sorry for offense I’ve caused,
For hygiene practices I’ve paused.
I spy myself, and smile with glee,
The only one to please is me.
