Haircut Hiccups

Week before last, I got a haircut. (I'm pictured at right, and even after my visit to the salon, I'm not blond.)

I decided it was time for a cut. I've worn my hair long for the last few years, and I needed a change. Since I've gone "freelance," much to my chagrin and that of the Significant Other, I've gotten a bit more lax about personal hygiene and dressing up. I can only think of two days out of the last 60 that my hair hasn't been in a ponytail. A shorter cut seemed like a good way to force my hair out of its rut.

(Laurel's two-step plan for improved physical appearance:

Step 1: New cut to avoid the ponytail.

Step 2: Change out sweatpants more than once per week.

I'll keep you posted on the progress of the second half of the plan.)

I've been very happy with my cut. I miss my hair some -- it's about six inches shorter -- but after the shock of that first shower when then just wasn't anything to wash, I've adjusted nicely. But, there's always been just one obstacle to my complete enjoyment of shorter hair.

That obstacle's name is Jennifer Love-Hewitt.

I wasn't even that big a fan of Miss Love-Hewitt's until a few years ago, but I've always found her hair quite intoxicating. Yes, I do like shows where women talk to dead people, but the real reason I watch Ghost Whisperer is for the hair and eyelashes. 

I want Jennifer's hair, and I always have. I like the loose curls at the end of her long locks. I love the toned down highlights. I appreciate how the perfectly tousled pieces fall just right. Of course, it takes me a minimum of one hour's time, two products and lots of time with a large-barreled curling iron to even begin to approximate this look, but every time I do, I'm enamored with myself. (And that's all that really matters, right?)

Sure, I don't have that hour every day. Or most days. Nor do I have the inclination, but one glimpse of a Ghost Whisperer promo is enough to make me want to trade the weeks I spend with cute, shorter hair for the one day out of a season I could manipulate my long hair into something like this. 

I suppose we all have our Achilles' heels. I'll count myself luckier than most that Jennifer Love-Hewitt happens to be mine.