While I wait for Lost to appear on my computer, I'm going to treat you to a fascinating look at the roots of my hair. I know, with these posts I am really spoiling you (with apologies to those for whom this is not a cultural landmark).
Last time I posted a pic was at four weeks without dye. Remember? Of course you do, you think about it daily.
Here's week 10. Yowzer.
Hair twisted back so you can see. Pretty darn white in places, huh?
I have to say it's not an easy ride. It looks a bloody mess, especially since I had my hair cut and then cut off a load more myself. Yeah, good move. I don't really know how to 'wear' it when it's not all long enough to tie back or up. But it grows fast.
I've wobbled once and put a toner on it that lasted about a week and wasn't very convincing. It's as if my hair has developed a mind of its own and henceforth will not be accepting any calls from Mr Clairol.
I have days when I love it and days when I think I'm making a huge mistake. It hasn't been well-received by anyone I know. They all look at me as if perhaps I've developed a drink problem and simply forgotten to bathe and look after myself. Charlie says I don't look like me anymore.
It is hard.
I may cave in.
But if I do, I think it will be by growing it out a bit further - with the help of temporary colour - and then maybe recolouring it but in a much lighter colour than I had it before. Not blonde, but very light. I don't know.
I don't know.
