Oh, What The Hell!

The color was fine,
I was pleased –
just needed a tweak.
“A trim,” I said, “a trim.”
“No problem,” she said.
Snip snip, trim trim.
“I didn’t mention a cut, now did I?”
Oh… dear, I looked like
a well groomed poodle –
just missing a few pink doodles.
“Now look what you’ve done,
and what the hell’s a ‘senior cut’?"
“It’s eleven dollars,” she smiled,
avoiding my eyes.
I knew how much it was,
I just wanted to know what,
but never mind the answer,
it was just what I got!
Like it doesn’t matter
any more, why take pride,
one foot on the grave,
you’re the hangman’s bride.
“We’ll fix it if you like…”
“Never mind!”
I left the shop in a huff.
I washed my mutilated protein,
and slapped on some setting jell,
“I look like a porcupine,” I cried.
I gazed at the mirror again –
well, I sniffled, color’s still fine,
style slightly matches my mood,
my raving temperament almost
to perfection,
so who the hell gives a damn
about their feeble intentions
so much that they should
make me cry?
I know I’m not old,
slightly mature – that’s all,
and there ain’t nothing wrong,
with a girl that’s all grown.

Carmen Ruggero .2004