Friday, August 24, 2007

An Ode To Irish Hair in the Southern Climes

Why-o-why must you torture me?
Charlottesville summers and the humidity.
A humbling time of the year.
Hair product, hair product. Always about the hair product.

But you remain unruly.
The mornings being the worst of it.
I awake, looking like I'm ready go to battle.
Hair accessories of bones and sticks would complete the look.
Like a real Druid.

But now I am pregnant!
And will have bigger things to worry about.
Maybe I'll shave you off altogether.
Then, can we call it a truce?


Anonymous said...

Congratulations!!! (on the baby not the hair worries :)
I'm soooooo happy for you!

That Girl . . . said...

Congratulations Tracey! How exciting! I can only imagine how adorable and beautiful you will be in the next few months!

Jennifer said...

Yeah! Congratulations. My hair will never be the same again. You have a good attitude though, so think: frizz happens, as does spit-up.

Tracey said...

Thanks so much ladies . . . and cool,hip mommas!

Autumn is my favorite season - so this one will be especially wonderful . . . said...

Wonderful news!
Take good care of yourself!

Steph said...

How can you just slip that in there so casually as if the poem is really about your hair!?

Tracey said...