As one of Hollywood’s hottest young stars of the 1990s, Jennifer Love Hewitt was poised to become a celebrated actor with respectable adult performances for decades to come.
But in 2015, the star of the hit TV show Ghost Whisperer, the “it girl” who tabloids loved, ghosted Hollywood, leaving fans speculating on the reason behind her disappearance.
It is not an exaggeration to say that Jennifer Love Hewitt was one of the biggest teen stars of the nineties. I mean, who didn’t fall for Jennifer Love’s Hewitt?
According to me, she possessed the most captivating smile, and there was something truly heartwarming and genuine about her presence.
After appearing in several TV commercials, Hewitt, now 44, had her big break when she was only 10 with the Disney Channel’s Kids Incorporated (1989 to 1991).
The show, about young people who perform in a rock band, served as a launching pad for many celebrities, like Fergie of the Grammy-winning band Black Eyed Peas, Mario Lopez, of Saved by the Bell and Access Hollywood, And Eric Balfour who had starring roles in 24 and Haven.
Of course, also Hewitt, who was later cast as a regular on the popular TV drama Party of Five, where she starred with an ensemble cast of Scott Wolf, Matthew Fox, Neve Campbell, and Lacy Chabert.
When Party of Five ended after six seasons in 1999, Hewitt then went on to star in touchstone films of the 1990s like the teen horror franchise I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997 and 1998) and the teen drama Can’t Hardly Wait (1998).
In 2001, Hewitt starred as the daughter of Sigourney Weaver’s character in the film Heartbreakers, an appearance that Roger Ebert critiqued in his review as Hewitt spending “the entire film with her treasures on display, maybe as product placement for the Wonderbra.”
Hewitt, who’s had a turbulent relationship with the media since she started filling out as a woman, said in a 2018 interview with LA Times, “It wasn’t actually until later, in the time when I took the step back, that I went “ugh.” It’s the worst–that’s not what I want to be remembered for.” She continued, “I don’t want my kid to Google me one day and see ‘She looks terrible’ or ‘She has big boobs and she’s hot.’ I don’t want that to be who I am.”
In 2002, she co-starred with Jackie Chan in the spy parody Tuxedo, where she was mostly covered up, oftentimes wearing the superpower-holding tuxedo.
Returning to TV in 2005, she played Melinda Gordon, a woman who communicates with the dead, in Ghost Whisperer.
Though the show failed to earn the respect of critics, it still had a loyal following. Hewitt said she was crushed when Ghost Whisperer was abruptly canceled in 2010, leaving viewers hanging.
“For me, it was a total shock… I thought our next season probably would be the last, just because the show had been on for a really long time,” she said. “It’s hard to come up with new things that will keep people intrigued, but I never thought in a million years that was going to have been our last season.”
In 2012, Hewitt earned her first Golden Globe nomination for her starring role in the Client List, where she plays a single mother, who makes a living as an erotic masseuse to support her children.
While filming Client List, Hewitt, also a singer, met her first and only husband, Brian Hallisay, who in the show plays the deadbeat dad to her on-screen children.
In real life, Hallisay is a great husband and father of three. The two married in 2013 and had their first daughter, Autumn, days after they wed. The pair then had Atticus in 2015, and Aiden in 2021.
Having worked tirelessly since she was a child, Hewitt slipped away from the spotlight in 2015, explaining that she needed time to be a wife and mother.
“There was a lot going on in my own life that just felt like I needed some space and some time to kind of be. I’ve really enjoyed the break, and I feel like now, the last few months, having gone back into acting, it’s really done a beautiful thing for me in that it’s made everything that I do in my acting/entertainment life not less important but less like, ‘It’s everything all the time,’ like it used to be.”
In her time away, Hewitt was also trying to heal from the death of her mother, who was 67 when she died of cancer in 2012, a loss she says still “feels very raw.”
During this challenging period in her life, Jennifer made the decision to leave Twitter as well. For some reason, she faced a great deal of hate on the platform.
Being pregnant, she couldn’t handle all the negativity and hostility, so she chose to step away from Twitter, which caused quite a stir.
”Unfortunately with all the negativity people choose to send on twitter as well as threats to their own well being I’m sad to say Twitter is no longer for me,” Jennifer wrote in 2013.
Since starting her career in 1989, Jennifer Love Hewitt has embarked on an incredible transformation journey, both physically and emotionally.
Unfortunately, she has also experienced the downsides of Hollywood, celebrity status, and objectification by tabloids. Some online media outlets went too far and made some really derogatory and harsh comments when bikini photos of Jennifer were leaked, highlighting her weight gain. Some of these outlets commented on her bikini pictures, saying things like “I know what you ate last summer.”
Jennifer could handle the tough comments, but she worried about how the pictures and headlines were impacting other girls struggling with their body image.
In a powerful response, she directed a message to all the ”girls with butts, boobs, hips and a waist” and instructed them to “put on a bikini, put it on, and stay strong”.
The Ghost Whisperer star encouraged them to proudly wear a bikini, stay strong, and embrace themselves as they are. Jennifer has gone through several weight journeys, sought the help of personal trainers, and strives to live a healthy lifestyle.
Today, she “never looks at the scale” and she doesn’t count calories. The 90’s star looks healthier than ever and remains active on social media and regularly shares updates about herself on her Instagram and Facebook accounts.
In 2020, following a three-year hiatus, Hewitt returned to work with “renewed energy and vigor,” appearing in the TV series 9-1-1, that follows the lives of first responders.
Starring as Maddie Buckley, a former nurse turned 911 operator, the show–now in its eighth season–gave Hewitt a platform to develop her profile, from one where she was earlier typecast as a symbol, to a mature, seasoned actor.
“I also feel like I have new things to pull from as an actress that I didn’t have before. I think it’s so odd as actors that we, especially kid actors, which I was, we’re expected to pull from all these life experiences that so many of us haven’t had,” Hewitt told the LA Times. “I feel like I acted for a lot of years from my heart, but not really, truly understanding some of the things that I understand now.”
It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost 25 years since we fell in love with Jennifer Love Hewitt’s infectious smile on Party of Five!
As the mother of three, it’s great she’s found the balance between work and family life, and we look forward to seeing her in even more mature roles in the future!
My Neighbor Started a Barbecue Every Time I Hung Laundry Outside Just to Ruin It
For 35 years, my laundry routine was sacred… until my new neighbor, armed with grudge and a grill, started firing it up the moment my pristine sheets hit the clothesline. It seemed petty at first. Then it got personal. But in the end, I had the last laugh.
Some people mark the seasons by holidays or weather. I mark mine by which sheets are on the line: flannel in winter, cotton in summer, and those lavender-scented ones my late husband Tom used to love in spring. After 35 years in the same modest two-bedroom house on Pine Street, certain rituals become your anchors, especially when life has stripped so many others away.
A smiling woman hanging a dress on a clothesline | Source: Pexels
I was pinning up the last of my white sheets one Tuesday morning when I heard the telltale scrape of metal across concrete next door.
“Not again,” I muttered, clothes pins still clenched between my lips.
That’s when I saw her: Melissa, my neighbor of exactly six months. She was dragging her massive stainless steel barbecue grill to the fence line. Our eyes met briefly before she looked away, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Morning, Diane!” she called out with artificial sweetness. “Beautiful day for a cookout, isn’t it?”
I removed the pins from my mouth. “At ten in the morning on a Tuesday?”
She shrugged, her blonde highlights catching the sun. “I’m meal prepping. You know how it is… busy, busy!”
I had to rewash an entire load that came out reeking of burnt bacon and lighter fluid after one of Melissa’s smoky meal prep sessions.
A barbecue grill | Source: Unsplash
When she pulled the same stunt that Friday while I was hanging clothes on the line, I’d had enough and stormed across the lawn.
“Melissa, are you grilling bacon and lighting God knows what every time I do laundry? My whole house smells like a diner married a bonfire.”
She gave me that fake, sugary smile and chirped, “I’m just enjoying my yard. Isn’t that what neighbors are supposed to do?”
Within minutes, thick plumes of smoke drifted directly onto my pristine sheets, the acrid smell of burnt bacon and steak mingling with the scent of my lavender detergent.
This wasn’t cooking. This was warfare.
Smoke emanating from a BBQ grill | Source: Unsplash
“Everything okay, hon?” Eleanor, my elderly neighbor from across the street, called from her garden.
I forced a smile. “Just peachy. Nothing says ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ quite like smoke-infused laundry.”
Eleanor set down her trowel and walked over. “That’s the third time this week she’s fired up that thing the minute your laundry goes out.”
“Fourth,” I corrected. “You missed Monday’s impromptu hot dog extravaganza.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
I nodded, watching as my sheets began to take on a grayish tinge. “Twice. She just smiles and says she’s ‘enjoying her property rights.'”
Sheets pinned to a clothesline | Source: Unsplash
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “Well, Tom wouldn’t have stood for this nonsense.”
The mention of my husband’s name still created that momentary hitch in my chest, even eight years later. “No, he wouldn’t have. But Tom also believed in picking your battles.”
“And is this one worth picking?”
I watched as Melissa flipped a hamburger patty, the grill large enough to cook for 20 people. “I’m starting to think it might be.”
I took down my now smoke-infused sheets, holding back tears of frustration. These were the last set Tom and I had bought together before his diagnosis. Now they reeked of cheap charcoal and pettiness.
A teary-eyed woman | Source: Pexels
“This isn’t over,” I whispered to myself as I trudged back inside with my ruined laundry. “Not by a long shot.”
“Mom, maybe it’s time to just get a dryer,” my daughter Sarah suggested. “They’re more efficient now, and—”
“I have a perfectly good clothesline that’s served me for three decades, sweetie. And I’m not about to let some Martha Stewart wannabe with boundary issues chase me off it.”
Sarah sighed. “I know that tone. What are you planning?”
“Planning? Me?” I opened my kitchen drawer and pulled out the neighborhood association handbook. “Just exploring my options.”
A surprised young lady | Source: Pexels
“Mom…?! I smell rats. Big ones.”
“Did you know there are actually rules about barbecue smoke in our HOA guidelines? Apparently, it’s considered a ‘nuisance’ if it ‘unduly impacts neighboring properties.'”
“Okayyyy?!? Are you going to report her?”
I closed the handbook. “Not yet. I think we need to try something else first.”
“We? Oh no, don’t drag me into your neighbor feud,” Sarah laughed.
“Too late! I need to borrow those neon and pink beach towels you used at that swim camp last summer. And any other colorful laundry you can spare.”
“You’re going to fight barbecue with laundry?”
“Let’s just say I’m going to give her Instagram brunch a new backdrop.”
Bright pink and green striped towels on the sand | Source: Pexels
I sat on my back porch, iced tea in hand, and watched as Melissa’s backyard was transformed. Strings of Edison bulbs appeared along her fence. A new pergola materialized. Potted plants with color-coordinated flowers lined her immaculate paver patio.
Every Saturday morning, like clockwork, the same group of women showed up with designer bags and bottles of champagne.
They’d crowd around her long farmhouse table, snapping photos of avocado toast and each other, cackling like hyenas while gossping about everyone who wasn’t there… especially the ones they’d hugged five minutes earlier.
A group of women laughing | Source: Unsplash
I overheard enough of their conversations to know exactly what Melissa thought of me and my clothesline.
It’s like living next to a laundromat,” she once told a friend, not even bothering to lower her voice. “So tacky. This neighborhood was supposed to have standards.”
***
Snapping out of my thoughts, I rushed inside and grabbed the neon towels plus that hot pink robe with “Hot Mama” on the back that my mom gave me for Christmas.
“Mom, what are you doing?” my youngest, Emily, gasped. “You said you’d never wear this in public.”
I smiled. “Things change, honey.”
A woman wearing a bright pink robe | Source: Unsplash
Saturday morning arrived with perfect blue skies. I watched from my kitchen window as caterers set up Melissa’s elaborate brunch spread. Flowers were arranged. Champagne was iced. And the first guests began to appear, each one dressed more impeccably than the last.
I timed it perfectly, waiting until phones were out and mimosas were being raised for a group selfie.
That’s when I emerged with my laundry basket.
A woman holding a laundry basket | Source: Freepik
“Morning, ladies!” I called cheerfully, setting down my overflowing basket of the most garish, colorful items I could assemble.
Melissa’s head snapped in my direction, her smile freezing in place. “Diane! What a…surprise. Don’t you usually do laundry on weekdays?”
I hung up a neon green beach towel and laughed. “Oh, I’m flexible these days. Retirement is wonderful that way.”
A woman laughing | Source: Pexels
The women at the table exchanged glances as I continued hanging item after item: my children’s SpongeBob sheets, the hot pink “Hot Mama” robe, leopard print leggings, and a collection of bright Hawaiian shirts Tom had loved.
“You know,” one of Melissa’s friends stage-whispered, “it’s really ruining the aesthetic of our photos.”
“That’s so unfortunate,” I replied, taking extra time positioning the robe directly in their camera line. “Almost as unfortunate as having to rewash four loads of laundry because of barbecue smoke.”
A woman holding her phone | Source: Pexels
Melissa’s face flushed as she stood abruptly. “Ladies, let’s move to the other side of the yard.”
But the damage was done. As they repositioned, I could hear the murmurs and gossips:
“Did she say barbecue smoke?”
“Melissa, are you feuding with your widowed neighbor?”
“That’s not very community-minded…”
I hid my smile as I continued hanging the laundry, humming loudly enough for them to hear.
Two women gossiping | Source: Pexels
When the brunch ended earlier than usual, Melissa marched to the fence. Up close, I could see the perfect makeup couldn’t quite hide the tension in her face.
“Was that really necessary?” she hissed.
“Was what necessary?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Yes, I do. Just like you knew exactly what you were doing with your strategic barbecuing.”
“That’s different—”
“Is it? Because from where I stand, we’re both just ‘enjoying our yards.’ Isn’t that what neighbors are supposed to do?”
An angry young woman | Source: Pexels
Her eyes narrowed at hearing her own words thrown back at her. “My friends come here every week. These gatherings are important to me.”
“And my laundry routine is important to me. It’s not just about saving money on utilities, Melissa. It’s about memories. That clothesline was here when I brought my babies home from the hospital. It was here when my husband was still alive.”
Her phone buzzed. She glanced down at it, her expression hardening again. “Whatever. Just know that your little laundry show cost me followers today.”
As she stormed off, I couldn’t help but call after her: “That’s a shame! Maybe next week we should coordinate colors!”
A woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels
For three consecutive Saturdays, I made sure my most colorful laundry made its appearance during brunch. By the third week, Melissa’s guest list had noticeably thinned.
I was hanging up a particularly vivid tie-dyed sheet when Eleanor appeared at my side, her garden gloves still on.
“You know,” she said with a chuckle, “half the neighborhood is taking bets on how long this standoff will last.”
I secured the last clothespin. “As long as it takes. I just want her to see me… and understand that I have as much right to my clothesline as she does to her brunches.”
A woman clipping laundry to a clothesline | Source: Freepik
After Eleanor left, I sat on my porch swing, watching my laundry dance in the breeze. The vivid colors against the blue sky reminded me of the prayer flags Tom and I had seen on our trip to New Mexico years ago. He’d loved how they moved in the wind, carrying wishes and prayers up to heaven.
I was so lost in the memory that I didn’t notice Melissa approaching until she was standing at the foot of my porch steps.
“Can we talk?” she asked, her tone clipped and formal.
I gestured to the empty chair beside me. “Have a seat.”
An empty chair on the porch | Source: Unsplash
She remained standing, her arms crossed tightly. “I want you to know that I’ve moved my brunches inside. Happy now?”
“I wasn’t trying to ruin your brunches, Melissa. I was just doing my laundry.”
“On Saturday mornings? Coincidentally?”
“About as coincidental as your barbecues starting every time my whites hit the line.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, two women too stubborn to back down.
A mature woman staring at someone | Source: Pexels
“Well,” she finally said, “I hope you enjoy your victory and your tacky clothesline.”
With that, she turned on her heel and marched back to her house.
“I will!” I called after her. “Every single sunny day!”
***
These days, hanging laundry has become my favorite part of the week. I take my time arranging each item, making sure the “Hot Mama” robe gets prime position where it catches the most sunlight.
Eleanor joined me one Saturday morning, handing me clothespins as I worked.
“Have you noticed?” she asked, nodding toward Melissa’s yard where the patio sat empty, curtains drawn. “She hasn’t fired up that grill in weeks.”
I smiled, adjusting a particularly bright yellow sheet. “Oh, yes!”
An empty patio | Source: Unsplash
“And have you also noticed she can barely look at you? I swear, yesterday at the mailbox she practically sprinted back inside when she saw you coming.”
I laughed, remembering how Melissa had clutched her letters to her chest and scurried away like I was wielding something more dangerous than fabric softener.
“Some people just can’t handle losing,” I said, pinning up the last sock. “Especially to a woman with a clothesline and the patience to use it.”
A woman running | Source: Pexels
Later, as I sat on my porch swing with a glass of iced tea, I caught sight of Melissa peering through her blinds. When our eyes met, she frowned deeply and let the slat snap shut.
I raised my glass in her direction anyway.
Tom would have gotten such a kick out of all this. I could almost hear his deep chuckle, feel his hand on my shoulder as he’d say, “That’s my Diane… never needed more than a clothesline and conviction to make her point!”
The truth is, some battles aren’t about winning or losing. They’re about standing your ground when the smoke clears… and showing the world that sometimes the most powerful statement you can make is simply hanging your laundry out to dry, especially when it includes a neon pink robe with “#1 HOT MAMA” emblazoned across the back.
Clothes hanging on a clothesline | Source: Unsplash
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