The Faux-hawk phase lasted much longer than anticipated :-) Like, months longer. But once I started messing with colors, a very magical thing happened.
More than half-way through the busy Saturday, standing in front of my reflection at a paint store window, I looked up. My shirt matched my hair. Exactly matched my hair.
As embarrassing as that is, I want to point out the most important part of this story.
I FORGOT MY HAIR WAS PURPLE.
I went about my day, doing my things, not thinking about what I looked like.
The next week I gave a Love and Logic presentation to fifty women in a MOPS group downtown. Not once while I was speaking did I think about how I looked while I was speaking. I felt my own spirit in that place, my own soul coming out unfettered by any insecurities. That's magic.
MAGIC AND FREEDOM!
Two full months of freedom.
Then I had to face the goal. The end goal has always been a buzz cut. I've been saying it all along. People have been reminding me of it all along. And when it came time, things came up. So I used up all my old color, and kept the faux for "just another couple weeks," and more things came up. Some were legitimately good reasons to hold off buzzing. Some weren't. Some made me think I wasn't being true to the people who were waiting to see pictures. Some reasons made me think I wasn't being true to myself.
I loved the purple faux-hawk. Really loved it. I could have stayed with it for years, but the point wasn't to find the hairstyle I liked the most. The point was to challenge my looks. The point was to try something that scared me. The point was to do something to my hair that I knew would take years to grow out. And learn to love and accept myself in it, no matter how it looked.