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?

7 comments:

VegMama 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 . . .

missficklemedia.com 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!?
Congratulations!!!

Tracey said...

:)!!!!