Remember this post: I Hate My Hair (or something like that?)
I said I was going to let the new haircut grow out and do periodic "check-ins" on here to prove how slowly my hair grows, which would legitimize my whining about my haircut, mainly that once I get it cut, it stays cut for like, a year. And then it sort of grows a little, if it feels like it. Or it might just decide to break off and give me that natural layered look, like Madge, here:
She can say, "I meant to look this way," and it's cool. That doesn't work for you when you're a 49 year old church secretary. You just end up looking like Ramona Quimby:
But I don't know if I can do this--that is, not color the roots.
Not that my natural hair color isn't a lovely shade of back-of-the-writing-tablet cardboard gray, because it's just awesome, if you like the "recycled paper on your head" look.
But it is taking all the willpower I have in the world to wait to color these roots until October 16, the 2 month marker of the haircut.
Is this proof that my hair is indeed growing?
Not so fast. I am one who cannot stand any rootage showing. So I colored my roots probably entirely too often. Which may explain the Ramona look.
But I'm hanging in there, in the interest of science (rate of growth, empirical evidence), social science (How will others treat me when they notice the line of mushroom colored hair in my part), and psychology (How long can I mentally stand it before I grab a box of L'Oreal 9G and get after it?)
This could be the longest 10 days of my life, excluding the 10 days I was overdue for Katie or the 10 days before Donny Osmond came to the Indiana State Fair in 1973. You get the idea. This is monumental.