I hear them talking about me. In the hallway, at the Union building.
I think they know. There is no way I'm Jenny. Even going under the
scalpel, breast augmentations, puffier lips, and a "tummy tuck." They
become beautiful, I become Frankenstein, right down to the nuts and
bolts. My blond locks have just as much shine and body, my eyelashes
are just as long, but it's like they know. They always know. They have
radar. And I have an Adam's Apple. I can't ever be Jenny, I'll always
just be Johnny.
12.06.2006
11.14.2006
Not Jenny 23
Not Jenny – Middle Age Version
I have to admit the truth, I’m getting a little old to deceive myself
any longer. I am not, nor have I ever been, a Jenny. At least not
yet…
Hope springs eternal, or so they say, so maybe there is still a chance
for me. If I can just set a goal, eat less, exercise more, and start
taking better care of myself. The kids are grown and don’t need my
attention any more, life is simpler, and I can devote 24/7 to my
self-improvement plan. I can become a middle-aged Jenny. These middle
aged Jennys must exist somewhere, Jennys have to grow up and reach
their middle age.
Watch out world, a new Jenny is about to make her debut! I can do it.
I know I can do it.
I am going to start this plan right away,but first, let me check in
with the Oprah show and see just what these middle aged, Jenny, role
models are like.
Oh gosh! There she is! The Jenny I’ve always dreamed of becoming!
That will be me in just a short time. Life will be perfect when I
become her. And, the secret to her success is …
What? I have to do all of that to become a Jenny! No way. I can
never rise that early, exercise that much, and eat that horrid food.
Forget it!
But, as they say, hope springs eternal. Maybe it won’t be quite so
much work to become a senior citizen Jenny if I just wait another 10
years.
I have to admit the truth, I’m getting a little old to deceive myself
any longer. I am not, nor have I ever been, a Jenny. At least not
yet…
Hope springs eternal, or so they say, so maybe there is still a chance
for me. If I can just set a goal, eat less, exercise more, and start
taking better care of myself. The kids are grown and don’t need my
attention any more, life is simpler, and I can devote 24/7 to my
self-improvement plan. I can become a middle-aged Jenny. These middle
aged Jennys must exist somewhere, Jennys have to grow up and reach
their middle age.
Watch out world, a new Jenny is about to make her debut! I can do it.
I know I can do it.
I am going to start this plan right away,but first, let me check in
with the Oprah show and see just what these middle aged, Jenny, role
models are like.
Oh gosh! There she is! The Jenny I’ve always dreamed of becoming!
That will be me in just a short time. Life will be perfect when I
become her. And, the secret to her success is …
What? I have to do all of that to become a Jenny! No way. I can
never rise that early, exercise that much, and eat that horrid food.
Forget it!
But, as they say, hope springs eternal. Maybe it won’t be quite so
much work to become a senior citizen Jenny if I just wait another 10
years.
Not Jenny #22
hippiejenny
Jenny. Pretty Jenny smoked buds. Big shimmery fatties with purple threads. Smoke encircled her head like a wreath. Hair like Rapunzel- soft with daisys and dreads. Jenny could feeeeeeeeeel the music and touch it just between the notes. She could taste it. She did. A sister of golden hair surprise. At shows, it was always Jenny touching, becoming light- Jenny got real meaning from being high as a kite. Jenny was experienced. Jenny and her lover had tantric sex. We could watch. They touched God. They were God. God. Jenny in the sky with diamonds. Beautiful butterfly. Free. Loved. Amity enveloped her like a cloak of loveliness. So true and earthy.Me. My buds were tiny and laced. Enthreaded with sadness. Always looking for the confident beauties. Kept tasting. Puffed them all. And then some. My spark never lit. My lover, how he enticed me, named me bitch and whore. No wait... what was it? Cumdumpster. But how he could touch between the vibrations! Like Jenny! He probably touched God with Jenny. Was God. Music tinkling, echoing against my yellow teeth, shaky limbs &
thin skin, me always slurring over notes out of my grasp. Tripping and falling into the back of a cruiser. No cloak for me. Coughing and spacey. Earthy and dirty. Just filthy. Still ugly.
Jenny. Pretty Jenny smoked buds. Big shimmery fatties with purple threads. Smoke encircled her head like a wreath. Hair like Rapunzel- soft with daisys and dreads. Jenny could feeeeeeeeeel the music and touch it just between the notes. She could taste it. She did. A sister of golden hair surprise. At shows, it was always Jenny touching, becoming light- Jenny got real meaning from being high as a kite. Jenny was experienced. Jenny and her lover had tantric sex. We could watch. They touched God. They were God. God. Jenny in the sky with diamonds. Beautiful butterfly. Free. Loved. Amity enveloped her like a cloak of loveliness. So true and earthy.Me. My buds were tiny and laced. Enthreaded with sadness. Always looking for the confident beauties. Kept tasting. Puffed them all. And then some. My spark never lit. My lover, how he enticed me, named me bitch and whore. No wait... what was it? Cumdumpster. But how he could touch between the vibrations! Like Jenny! He probably touched God with Jenny. Was God. Music tinkling, echoing against my yellow teeth, shaky limbs &
thin skin, me always slurring over notes out of my grasp. Tripping and falling into the back of a cruiser. No cloak for me. Coughing and spacey. Earthy and dirty. Just filthy. Still ugly.
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