At sixteen she is precise
with her makeup,
and dances to stay slim.
“You could be a model,”
her nannan tells her.
Carefully she opens the fridge door
for the umpteenth
to catch the little man
who switches on the light.
It must be true because
she wants to believe it,
and her mam’s boyfriend,
adult and streetwise
who told her, can be trusted.
The Wombwell Rainbow 
Pardon me, sir I think you forgot the poems in these last two
I did. A blonde moment of my own. Corrected. Thankyou.
I wish I was blonde. They never buy it when I say ‘brunette moment’. ^_^
I agree. Blondes have all the fun, redheads are wild, apparently. Brunettes should rule the world.