I tried to touch up my roots tonight.
My hair is still wet so I haven't gotten a clear look at the results yet, but I'm afraid I messed up. Big time. I can already tell that I chose the wrong color and it looks like I didn't do a very consistent job covering the roots either--so I've got a brighter, oranger, redder, broken up stripe at my roots interrupted by chunks and dashes of natural color (or other color anyway).
I've got reddish hair right now. Even when I was younger and I wasn't worried about grays, I thought my roots looked gray when they grew in under red ... and now I'm older and I am worried about grays and I think my roots look gray growing in under the red and it drives me nuts. Hence the attempt to color my roots.
I hope the difference in the new color and the old color isn't as obvious when it dries.
A part of me thinks it doesn't matter because my hair is a jumble of colors anyway. A littler (but sometimes louder) part of me thinks it doesn't matter because no one ever actually looks at me anyway. A third part of me is afraid it will matter. A fourth part hopes it's not noticeable. A fifth part hopes it matters. So many parts of me!
I wonder how long I could keep going with this.
We've just finished watching Brave. I wonder if I could keep the red going and my hair growing and go out as Merida for Halloween next year. Maybe I could dress Derek as a bear--but would that mean I was dressing him as the queen?
I'm sitting on the couch. Derek's lying against my back. I think he may have fallen asleep a minute or two ago. He suddenly got heavy and quiet and still. It feels nice. I'm debating if I should carry him to bed or wake him up and make him brush his teeth and take a shower, He had a long day. We skipped church again this Sunday (we skip most Sundays) and Derek missed his nap. Bobby took Derek to the park. I watched Anchorman 2 while he was gone. What a stupid waste of two hours! I could have and should have done so many other things instead. Darn it.
Derek will be three tomorrow.