So, I shaved my head in June. My hair has continued to grow, as seems its predilection. (And I appreciate this predilection.)
I took some month three progress pictures, and then got whammied by a weeks long migraine. I also got a hair cut *GASP*, so I figured a dual post would be appropriate. We’re about a week away from the official four month mark, and I think that’s close enough.
Month three seems to be the mark where my hair went from tolerable to annoying. I felt like my look went from an adult woman to a 4-year-old boy–overly long, unruly curls along the back and sides. I mostly tried to embrace the curl, but I definitely felt less cute.
I held out as long as I could, hoping to get more length on the top, but I just had to get a professional cut. No mullets for me. Off came the back and sides–there’s really no point in saving that length until the rest of my hair catches up. My hair is actually in a shape now (I let the stylist tackle the top too), and I’m in the position to let it grow or keep it the way it is.
I’m tempted to keep it. I blow dry it for less than a minute, rub in some texturizing wax, and I’m set. Heck, I could just wash and wear too.
Realistically, I don’t see myself jetting over to the salon in a month from now. I’ll let it keep growing, taking it month-by-month, all the while, resisting the urge to pull out the bleach and pastel pink hair color.
It’s been a little over 60 days since the post-shaved-head-regrowth-countdown began. For the details, read here and here. The hair in the back has become a little rambunctious, and I experienced a couple hot August nights where the temptation to pull out the clippers was strong. Aside from that, I don’t have much to report, except that my hypothesis holds true: hair grows back. Enjoy the progress pictures. xxxooo
In June, I shaved off all my hair. The ends were still bleached and pink, so I had to wait a few more weeks for the roots to grow out. Then, I shaved it again. So, as I track the hair-growing-out process, the official start date is June 21.
I also thought it would be a neat project to document its growth–not just with monthly updates here, but a daily, photographic compilation. So, since the end of June, I’ve been taking a selfie every day, with the goal of capturing my hair as it grows for an entire year. Naturally, I’ve already slacked off, and there have been days when I’ve forgotten to snap a picture. But, I’m around the 80% mark, which I think will still be representative.
Click me to embiggen!
Click me to embiggen!
Click me to embiggen!
So far, I love the short, short hair. The timing wasn’t purposeful, but I’m happy I started this in the summer.
I’m definitely transitioning in and out of awkward hair days. The front has gotten to the length where I either let it look like a jerky ’90’s Caesar cut or I push the baby fringe to the side. It’s also starting to grow over the tops of my ears. Again, I just push the hair behind them. Soon, my cowlick will actually be a cowlick again. I don’t think, however, I’ve officially entered the super-awkward, poofy hair grow out stage yet. No matter, bring it.
As to its color, as I suspected, it’s darkened. I’d say it’s a level 7G, dark, golden blonde. (For those pro and amateur colorists out there.) It’s still hard to say what it will look like as it lengthens and light shines on it.
A couple weeks in, it did occur to me that, while all of my styling products are in semi-retirement, I should probably invest in some hair care products that will help these new, virgin hairs be shiny and strong. And, off to Lush I went. (For those that are interested, I grabbed a NEW! Shampoo Bar, American Cream Conditioner, and Roots Hair Treatment. I’m not convinced these products will make my hair grow faster, but I do know I won’t loose length due to breakage. I also know that my hair smells yummy!
What else? People’s responses? No weirdos have approached me. No one has asked me if I have cancer. Compared to my previous hair stylings, public response has been very low key. Speaking of my previous hair stylings, though they will now be retrospectives, I do plan on writing posts on some of my unnatural hair coloring experiences.
I suppose that’s all for now. If you somehow found your way here because you too are growing out your shaved head, I’d love to hear from you in the comments section! Smooches.
To say I shaved my head for no particular reason isn’t entirely true. My reasons are varied. But, what they boil down to is: I did it just because.
For close to four years now I’ve courted with the world of unnatural hair colors. Name a color, I’ve done it. But, the constant process of changing color absolutely wrecks your hair. It’s not the dye itself. It’s the bleach you use to get your hair as light as possible so that your application of Hi-Octane Orange pops. It’s the processes and applications you use to remove the old color to replace it with a new one. And there’s always a new one. Like the Lay’s Potato Chip, you can’t have just one.
I was fussing with my hair a week ago, and saw the color (a three-toned pink gradient) was fading fast. The idea of going back to my natural color had been swirling in my mind. I could take the slow, non-dramatic approach to transition my hair to match its newly emerging roots. Or, I could test my personal hair styling philosophy–It’s just hair and it grows back–and shave it all off. And so I did.
It’s true–my husband and I had seen the new Mad Max movie the previous weekend and Charlize Theron looked pretty bad ass with her cropped head. There was precedence. There is, actually, a lot of precedence recently, beautiful actresses who sheer their hair for a role. Karen Gillan, in particular, comes to mind. She took her hair down to her scalp for her role in Guardians of the Galaxy. And then there are the numerous celebrities, models, musicians, random kick ass chicks who wear their hair shaved on purpose. It’s just the hair style they choose to rock.
So when I was pondering my hair in the bathroom, and I said, “Maybe I should just shave it all off.” My husband responded, “Do it.” The next day we sat on the porch and took turns clipping each other’s hair with a number 2 guard. It was an amusing bonding experience: particularly because my husband was envious of my intact hairline. I’m grateful that his scalp’s follicular retreat means that we don’t exactly have the same hair cut.
I like my shaved head. It’s fun to run my hand against the hair’s grain–the way I might do with my husband’s hair. And, now, he can do the same with mine. (Pet me like a cat, I don’t mind.) I still feel the wind blowing through my stubby, little strands. The shower has turned into an even more wonderful tactile experience–the cascade of water tickles my scalp. And the most surreal of all, I spend zero time styling my hair, and it still looks good.
Of course, there are negatives, most of which I’d already experienced. (I’ve been sporting some variation of an undercut for a year) I have a light pink birth mark on the back of my head that peaks through past my hairline. Random head acne cannot be disguised, and requires make up. I now need to protect my innocent, pale scalp from the sun with hats or SPF.
Reactions from others have been interesting. When I wore odd colors in my hair, strangers felt compelled to comment. New people in my life quickly learned that anytime they saw me, my hair had likely changed. So far, people who know me well, react in shock, “Where did your hair go? What’s the story?” I demur, because I can sum up the story with, “Because I felt like it.” Strangers, I assume, assume my hair is shaved due to a worse fate. Though I wouldn’t know, because suddenly people remember things like boundaries, which don’t exist when my hair is turquoise. I haven’t seen any random acquaintances–those people I know, but not very well. I’m prepared to reassure them that my shaved hair is not a reflection of illness or a loss of sanity.
Right now, I haven’t completely rid my hair of its previous color. Its ends are still tinged pink. I’m not quite at “clean slate” status. One more pass in a week with the clippers should take care of that. I don’t intend to keep my hair shorn. I want to grow it out. I want to see my natural hair color. I’m intensely curious. Is there gray hiding in there? How much has it darkened (the inevitable fate of all natural blondes)? Will it grow redder as my mother’s has?
And if I’m being honest (with myself), this whole process is and will be an act of symbolism. A search for self and authenticity through something equal parts significant and insignificant as how I wear my hair. I’ll let you know how it goes.