But my hair is OK – With Real Toads

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Whose idea was it

– please enlighten me –

back in the eighties

to instal changing rooms in clothes shops

with no privacy?

Mirrors were no friend of mine at home

let alone when in the company of svelte girls.

Harsh-lit under lighting

guaranteed to magnify my cellulite

and glint on the mouthful of metal

glued to my teeth by a dentist with no pity for

teenage sensitivity.

I was encircled by girls –

with perfect hair

with perfect bodies

with perfect teeth

with perfect make up.

Whose idea was it, I ask you?

It was the school changing rooms all over again

and the dash through the communal showers

as fast as I could without slipping over on those

god-awful brown and yellow tiles.

 

I still hate shopping for clothes –

thighs too robust to fit in jeans

knees too chunky for on-the-knee skirts

biceps too muscly for long sleeved shirts.

 

I like my hair though.

It’s too wild and woolly for fashion these days.

But about that one thing, I don’t care.


 

Over at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Magaly is hosting and asks us to write about one of three bees – the Queen Bee, the bee that works the hardest or the bee that doesn’t fit in. Of course I chose the latter. I don’t feel that I’ve ever fitted in anywhere really (although the writing and art community seems to be suiting me rather well these days!). That not fitting in thing was certainly a theme of my growing up…

Please head on over to The Garden, have a good read and if you feel inspired, join in!

Petulant Hair – dVerse Poetics

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She is brushing her strawberry blonde hair

She fusses with it all the time

It drives me mad, I truly declare

It’s a good job she is a true love of mine

 

The mirror’s no stranger to her face

She’s gazing in it all the time

I sometimes wish her I could replace

But she has her hooks in me, this true love of mine

 

The bathroom door is locked again

She’s used all the water yet one more time

I’m angry and bored of this refrain

Damn her she is the true love of mine

 

She’s left all the bath towels strewn on the floor

My wardrobe is full of her clothes, not mine

For one pair of my shoes, she owns four more

She’s addicted to fashion, this true love of mine

 

I sheared off her hair in the midst of the night

A revenge I dreamed on all the time

Sorry to say, she looks such a fright

But she’ll always be the true love of mine.


 

Tonight, Mish is our friendly barkeep at the dVerse pub and has asked us to write something like a song, or a singable.

Recently I found myself listening to some Simon & Garfunkel – I had forgotten how much I loved their version of Scarborough Fair – and also how it reminded me of my mum singing lots of different folk songs around the house when I was growing up. This is a tongue in cheek version (in case you hadn’t worked it out!) about a frustrated paramour’s thoughts on his (or her) very vain true love!

Here’s a link to the Simon & Garfunkel version – enjoy!

Do head on over to dVerse to see how others have faired with his fun prompt – or take part yourself, why not?!