Tag Archives: Hair

Give thanks

It’s time to give thanks to Otto Wichterle.

Who? I hear most of you say.

(He’s the Czech chemist who invented contact lenses. Although, the multi-talented Leonardo da Vinci should be credited for the initial idea.)

Not because without those amazing inventors, I would just wander around my house bumping into blurry furniture. No. Glasses would shield me from such a fate.

But because without contact lenses I would be doing regular impressions of Papa Bear. Either that or physically appearing like the victim of a razor attack.

You see, my glasses help me to see. They deliver me safely across the road. They ensure the knife slices the onion instead of the finger, well, most of the time. They allow me to appreciate the faces of my generally happy children.

But they steam up when I come in from the cold.

Or open the oven door.

And I cannot wear them when having a shower or a bath.

Without Mr Wichterle my world would consist of unutterable measures of self-harm. Blood splattered bathrooms.

And no sex.

After all, what husband is motivated by a constantly injured, blood stained wife or, worse still, an actual werewolf in his bed?

Wild hair

When I woke up this morning
I had curls upon my head
Wild, twirling ringlets
My long straight hair had fled.

Time for school
So wake my son
Who takes a glance
Just one -
Starts to laugh and giggle
At his crazy looking mum.

Blurry eyed and sleepy
I catch sight of myself
In the bathroom mirror
That sits above the shelf.

What’s staring back at me?
I am shocked by what I see
Such a mon-stro-si-ty.

What have I done?
Where have I been?
I thought asleep
What was my dream?

But deep inside
No place to hide
A wish reveals itself:

No longer poker straight
Not lifeless
Not hanging there
But intertwined figures of eight!

The back-combing
To volumize
In my days gone by
Spiral perms, corkscrews
(Along with all the dye).

I feel a little excitement
Even though
I know
Anyone who saw me
Would think me mad from head to toe.

So I decide
For a little while
I’ll support my guise
The one that says to passer-bys

“I just got out of bed!”.

You see,
Between you and me:
My wild hair
Tells of my wild night
With my wild dreams
Which is a component
To be celebrated
Of that wild side
In me. ;-)