Society’s ordinance: women must be hair-free.
But if dark, thick foliage is in your family tree,
Then Google, “Greek Hair God” and pray your plea.
For as a hairy lady,
The God of Hair did not give a worry or care,
So there I was, a disgruntled mood in the air.
Shaving three to five times a week,
The outlook became bleak.
In the winter, the razor collected cobwebs, not hair,
Skin concealed by all the clothes I had to wear.
Maybe my husband had some despair about all the hair,
But, divorce due to a woolly mare is rare.
Thankfully I found you Sugar,
The mental worry, the covering my underarm furry,
It’s no longer occurring.
Because the change you’ve made is meaningful
My confidence is no longer seasonal.
Year round, pants, bikini, or short.
My skin and pride glow as one collective sort.