They tell you ‘eat your crusts up, they’ll give you curly hair’
Well I never did eat mine so this affliction isn’t fair.
It’s down to ‘dodgy’ follicles or genes or voodoo magic
Gene Wilder in his Wonka days, my curly curse is tragic.
Sometimes I can dupe myself that I’m Carrie from Sex and The City
Except fatter with no dress sense, oh the shame! It’s a terrible pity.
I attack it with my GHD’s until I’m at the end of my tether
it’ll still kink up like Shirley Temple in mildly inclement weather.
I dream of sleek and glossy hair, I can pin up all arty-farty
Instead my little hairclip screams ‘child at a birthday party’.
‘You’re so lucky to have the choice!’, people often delcare.
You wouldn’t consider yourself so ‘lucky’ with Leo Sayer hair…
‘Beautiful, bouncy, shiny curls’? Don’t believe the hype,
The only Curly Wurly I enjoy is the Cadbury’s chocolate type.
Bookish Chat 