A Stab at a Poem

So I’d sort of been thinking I might change my hair?

Nothing too radical that would make people stare

Something to make me feel new and alive

Help me forget that I’m past thirty five.

I wanted to be considered what some now call a ‘milf’

Not starting to resemble a fat bloke called Wilf.

A yummy mummy yes that’s who I am

I only pretend that I love eating spam.

The appointment was made for a consultation

And the woman was nice, I had no hesitation

She assured me by saying she’d been years in this job

So it was finally agreed on….I’d have a choppy bob.

Right let's get you washed, is that temperature right?

How are you today love? Goin out tonight?

At this point there’s only one thing I can think

That I’m dying of pain in this neck shaped sink.

Then she starts with the uncomfortable head rubbing bit

I think I may be having a fit

I really don’t care what conditioner she’s used

It all just feels like I’m being abused.

She brings me a coffee but I still want to slap her

Then I notice a biscuit in its own special wrapper

This helps calm me down as I move to the chair

That would soon become known as the “The Chair of Despair”

Are you nervous? You look nervous, you’re really nervous I’m betting?

She’s now talking to me like I’m some sort of cretin.

Oh please cut my hair and stop rabbiting on

And suddenly I notice…all my hair's gone!!

A choppy bob for god’s sake, she’s got it all wrong

The hair on the floor could stuff a chaise-longue

What the hell has she done? Is this some kind of joke?

I don’t remember asking to look like a bloke.

Then off she trots to get the back of your hair mirror

I glance at the scissors, I might have to kill her.

As she positions the mirror all I see are her slippers

I hope you don’t mind love but I had to use clippers.

That’s lovely I say, no it’s fine just like that

Just bring me my coat, have you got a spare hat?

How was it for you? Have you found it rewarding?

Transforming me into a dark haired Claire Balding?

So I don’t feel all new and I don’t feel alive

And I think I look more like I’m past 65.

Short hair's not for me that’s not who I am

But all is not lost, I’ve still got my Spam.