Should I cut off my hair, I mused to myself
Less products I would require on my bathroom shelf
A stylish bob maybe, or a perm is the new rage
Have I yet reached the frumpy middle-aged stage?
My hair can be a curse, thrives a life of its own
I've tangled with temperamental straighteners and dryers be blown
A myriad of shades as I dipped my head in the dye
Everything from green I seem to have tried
Long gone are the days for ribbons and bows
Now all I expect is a mirror-like glow
Oh hell and be damned is that a grey I espy
A hat is the answer, I'm ageing, I sigh
