Misadventures in the Beauteous Parlour.

Have you spent a Sunday afternoon
Feeling swindled irritated and thoroughly buffooned?

 I wonder if you have felt the same
as I did when I innocently went just to have my mane tamed,

And received treatments numerous and arcane.
Hair Spa,thermotherapy and more rolling,ironings and pressings than I ever bargained.


By which time my hair lost what little verve it ever had
And looked gazooked ,startled and pretty sad.

Prompting the lady who runs the saloon
(who incidentally,looks like some copiously painted balloon.)

To say that it is not all that bad;and then sanctimoniously advise,
What you need is some streaks-maybe russet or red, to disguise-

the thinness,the grayness and the lack of volume,
and I wanted to strangle her but could only inwardly fume.

For I was already looking like a frightened porcupine.
And didn't want to go to the next level and look like a streaky,red something that would be disowned even by the porcupine.

So although the vamp wanted me to yield once more to her ministrations and rebond and colour my hair into lustrous locks,
And not just that-to detox,botox and smite my pocks;

I gently but surely and decisively threw her off the track
By saying that it would not be right for her to colour  me red and earn my husband's flak.

Russet and red would freak him out
He will get apoplectic and forever pout.

It's not that he does not like streaks you see,but being rather patriotic and traditional,
He prefers me to colour myself like an Indian peacock in green ,blue and some cobalt nominal.

Her jaw dropped and she gave me some spiel on customer care
I escaped to tell the tale:Buyer Beware!