I felt renewal in my brain from giving up shampoo.
Imagining a jewelled mane, I vowed to see it through.
Three weeks on and satisfied, but heeding oily tresses,
keeping to the plan to hide if grease became excessive.
All was fair 'til I was pawed by a monkey on my head.
He twisted first and then he clawed and moved me to see red.
I roared for my husband,
"there's an animal in my hair."
I thrashed and bashed and crashed and lashed
and the bloody thing stayed there.
At one stage I felt it,
not an ape, but an epic nit.
More finical to get than a simian pest
and stubborn as sh*t!
My daughter, just turned six, walked in,
ignoring the conflict with the giant tick,
took water from the fridge and petitioned
for a previously denied wish,
"Can we have crisps?"
"Get Daddy," I hissed.
I nearly had it down, I could see long black legs
but it raced back to my crown and I thought it may lay eggs.
Then I got it out, praying it was a one and only,
I laced it to the ground and saw a hideous, unholy
extended beast, inky black.
When my other half arrived the 'roach arched up its back.
"It's a scorpion" I cried,
corrected by a chuckling spouse,
holding his sides,
"A devil's coach horse," he pronounced.
A monkey is superior
to things of mini status.
It can't invade my nose or ears
or hide within my mattress.
And so concludes my brief undertake
for no shampoo and no non-primates.
(This is a true story. And I cannot tell you how much I hate creepy crawlies!!! About a year ago, I woke in the middle of the night with a feeling that a needle was being pushed into my forehead and, it turned out, there was an earwig sitting up there pincering me for some sort of insect laugh. I hate them so much and, obviously, the feeling is mutual!
Back to the poem: I was trying out giving up shampoo by washing my hair less often and using healthy, natural alternatives when I did. There is a blogger to blame for all of this (hee hee): I read this post at Kate Takes 5 and felt inspired, it really does make sense to me. I had washed my hair four times with beaten egg when the incident in the poem happened. I was on about day four after the last wash and my hair was getting oily but I accepted that that might be part of the process of my hair getting healthier.
Anyway, my hair was actually kind of manky when the devil's coach horse (oh, why does it have to be called that?) took up residence. However, my husband did say that he could have been in my hair for weeks...aaaaaaaggghh and then he said "maybe he likes eating egg" which drove me straight to the bathroom and my shampoo. I may try again in the future...or I might shave my head.
The monkey thing is a joke in our house. When I hear my husband or one of my children shouting, "yuck, look what I found" I always say that I hope it's a monkey and not an insect. Petrified though I am of monkeys, at least one couldn't hide on you.
There are two references in the poem that I think I should mention:
1. The title is a reference to Alexander Pope's The Rape Of The Lock
and
2. The opening line is a reference to Emily Dickinson's I Felt A Funeral In my Brain.
I love both poets and both poems.)
