How do you say "I'm growing it out" in Arabic?

Last week, for Shabbat, we all decided to get our hair cut. Debby and Tal went on Thursday night and I went on Friday morning and by sundown Erev Shabbat we all looked fabulous.

The salon, Venus, is right across the street and the three Arab men who cut hair there are all brothers. Tabeht, my stylist, does not speak English. I speak no Arabic at all and the Hebrew I do know does not include "Just a trim, please." So, Debby went with me and an entire conversation took place between she and Tabeht which involved lots of pointing at my head. Satisfied that she had communicated her point, Debby sat down with her coffee and I sat down at the shampoo bowl. If this year is about letting go of control, among other things, my haircut was about to be a hallmark experience. The long-ish pieces falling to the floor were alarming at first but Debby, catching sight of my worried face in the mirror, laughed and reminded Tabeht that I still wanted to be able to pull it all back. He nodded and continued slicing away.

Thirty minutes and some vigorous blow-drying later, I paid my 150 shekels and we were on our way to run a few final errands before Shabbat that night. The first store in which we stopped, a funky boutique full of the famous ultra-wide-leg Israeli pants and the wrap-around ballet-style shrug sweaters made famous at BHDS by Ms. Hineman, was full of stylish women shopping and as soon as we walked in I got a compliment on my hair. Had Tabeht and this shopkeeper planned it?! Or, was my hair just fabulous? I prefer to think the latter. I now have a great style which, in keeping with the directions, can be pulled back into the shortest ponytail the world has ever seen. Let's hear it for Arab-Israeli relations, right here on my head.