Hair Envy

So I have really short hair. Like boy short. Shorter-than-Sam-and-Jake short. Abby-and-I-have-the-same-haircut short. Did I say it was short? But for the most part, I think it suits me. Anytime I have long hair I end up looking more like Roseanne Rosanna Danna (what an OLD reference) than the girls in the Pantene commercials. Plus, I'm quite proud of the fact that I can go from bed to shower to backing out the driveway in less than 7 minutes. (Perhaps I shouldn't be too proud, however. I had to be at work at 6:30 a.m. today and when I glanced at myself in the mirror about 15 minutes ago, I realized my 7-minute routine is somewhat lacking.)

But every once in awhile I get the urge to have long hair. Right before my wedding. When I was pregnant with Sam. Today.

One day last week when I picked Jake up at school he was sitting in Miss Maria's lap ("Miss Maria's my fa-RAY-end," Jake tells me.), lacing his fingers in and out of her beautiful long black hair. And then last night Sam and I were watching TV when a shampoo commercial came on. He was captivated and when it was over he said, "Maybe you should get some of that." (He's the perfect consumer because he truly believes if you buy THAT shampoo, your hair will look like that.)

"Why," I asked him. "You think I should have long hair."

"Yes," he told me. "I think you'd look better with long hair."

So maybe one of these days, I'll have the ambition to grow it out again. Until then I'll visit Victor every 4 weeks, tolerate occasionally being called 'Sir' and watch with envy as Sam is mezmerized by the long-haired beauties he sees on TV.