Chapter 4: Jenny's Mantra

Jenny arrived at Dana's on Saturday morning for coffee. It looked like she was after more than talk. As usual, she looked like a well-turned-out junk wagon. Great clothes, well-chosen, becoming colors and not cheap - that she wore like gunny sacks.

"What's on your mind?" Dana asked, after they'd settled down in the living room with their mugs.

Jenny fought a losing battle with herself. You could see it on her face. Indecision, resolve, doubt, uncertainty, hopelessness. The feelings swept across her like words on the sign in Times Square. Finally, her face red, 'What the hell!'

"Dana, I need help. I look like hell, and I feel like a frump. You always look so great. I want to know how you do it."

"Jenny, that's a load of shit." Dana lied. "Look at you. Your clothes are great, the colors go with your coloring - they're the right colors for you. They're not cheap and you've chosen them well."

"Then why do I look like I do? I look like I'm a hundred years old in these things and I just bought them yesterday... You want to know why I'm so upset? Look at you. You're wearing shorts and a t-shirt and you look magnificent. Sometimes I hate you. I did hate you when I first met you."

"Yeah, I know," Dana said. "I could feel it, but you got over it. How come?"

"How come I got over it? Because you're such a good friend, because you're easy to get along with, you don't judge me or anyone else. How can anyone not love you?"

"Plenty of people don't, you know. They look at me and decide I'm some stuck-up or know-it-all or something, and then they hear me sounding off with my opinions." Dana laughed. "Generally, if people don't like me, I've earned it. Most of the time, I don't care too much."

"I think you cared with me."

"Jenny, I saw you disliked me. But I didn't think it had anything to do with me, personally. You seemed to be reacting to the way I look, not to me. So, I just waited, tried to get to know you. Eventually, you gave up hating me, that's all."

"I guess. But I still can't forgive the way you look so great and I look so..." she waved her hand in the air.

"Jenny, I like you a lot, now. Really I always have. You've got a great sense of humor. You're honest about most things, look them straight in the eye, same as I try to do..."

Jenny interrupted, "That's what did it for me, you know. We usually agree about things. See them the same way. You're serious, I mostly laugh it off, but we see things pretty much alike."

"If that weren't so, if you weren't honest about things, you wouldn't be here today saying what you just said. So, what are we doing today?" Dana asked her. "What's the agenda? You think I can tell you how to look like me? That doesn't make sense."

"No, I don't want to look like Dana Adams. That's not me. But I want to know how Dana Adams looks like she does. How do you do it?"

"Jenny, you're asking me to tell you something dangerous."

"What? You mean you have a magic cure for the frumps of the world?"

Dana thought about that for a moment. "No. You don't believe in magic either. See, I've thought about why I look like I look. I'm weird, Jenny, I think about things like that. If I think I look pretty good, well, then I have to figure out why. What's dangerous is that there's only one thing I can think of to tell you. I might hurt your feelings, make you hate me again - forever this time. And what's worse, I could be wrong, 'cause it's only my personal opinion."

"You mean you want to tell me what you think of me, right?"

"Well, not quite as bad as that. I have some thoughts. About why you think you look like you say you do. And that may be wrong, that is, incorrect, and it may also be wrong to tell you what I think. Of course, since I've said that, the fat's already in the fire."

"Yeah, now I can go home and tell myself you don't like the way I look, and confirm my worst fears." She smiled at me. "Then I can say you're a snotty bitch and the hell with you."

"You going to do that?"

"No. Tell me. Tell me what you think. If I don't like it, I'll say so. But I asked you, and so I have to at least listen."

"Okay, I'll do it. Just remember that I love you, no matter what you think you hear. And ask me what I mean if you get pissed off. Maybe I didn't say it right, okay?"

"Yeah. Fire away."

"All right. I've got to think about how to get this across... Let me try this. Would you stand up? And, take your shoes off." Jenny stood up and did so. "How come you wear such high heels?"

"I'm so short. Five feet seven."

"Not short, slightly above average height, same as me. Okay, what do you weigh? Your measurements."

"One thirty five, 36, 26, 36."

"A-cup?"

"Yeah. Not much I can do about that."

"You realize that's classic for your height? There's a couple million women who'd kill to have a body with those numbers."

"I know the numbers, and my tits are still tiny - the 'Perfect 36' is a C. I also know how I look. So do you. I'll bet your numbers are about the same as mine - you've got the Cs, anyway - but you look like a fucking beauty queen. I look like an overdressed bag lady."

Dana laughed. "It's not that bad. But, you don't look your numbers, Jenny. I guess there's no point my asking you why, that's why you're here."

"Exactly." Jenny started to put her heels on again.

"No," Dana said, "don't. Let's go upstairs. You game? Will you let me try some things with you?"

"I started it, didn't I?"

"Tell me if you get worried or upset, will you?"

"I will. So far so good."

They went up to the bedroom. There was a tall, wide mirror on the wall beside the bed. Jenny looked at it carefully for a moment, thought of saying something and let it pass.

"Yeah," Dana said, noticing her assessment. "We like it... Stand beside me and look at yourself in the mirror. Now, with your shoes off, of course, your skirt's a little too long, but that's all right. Your haircut is good for you, simple, not fussy. The dress is a good color. Is it your favorite color?"

"Yeah. That's why I wore it today. It looks good on me. As good as anything does."

"Sure does. Okay, here's the moment of truth. Take off your clothes."

"Why?"

"So I can answer your question. You want me to take mine off, too?" Dana pulled her t-shirt out of her shorts.

"That's up to you. Okay." Jenny pulled the dress over her head. "Everything?"

"Right." Dana pulled off her shirt, dropped her shorts and stepped out of her panties while Jenny did the same. Jenny wore a padded bra that ended up on the bed with her other things.

"Now, stand next to me." Dana said. "Look at you, you've got a better figure than I do. Your tummy's so perfect. Great legs. Here, turn toward me. See, your butt is better defined, mine sort of slopes in. Your breasts are small, yes, but they're firm - no sag. And those nipples are glorious"

Jenny looked at the two images in the mirror. "I don't know about the nipples. They've always been a problem. That's why I wear a padded bra - they punch through everything I wear. But why do you look super and I don't?"

"First of all, if our guys were here, they wouldn't see any problems, anyhow."

"Well, that's not what I'm talking about. Guys go nuts over skin. Reflex."

"I know. Turn to the side... and back. See, this is how you look all the time. Imagine yourself with clothes on."

"Yeah, I can see it. It's the way I've always been."

Dana said, "Now, do this. Back up to the mirror, put your back against it."

"It's cold," Jenny squeaked. "Like this?"

"Well, heels against the wall." Dana moved closer. "You mind if I touch you?"

"No. I'm not much for going naked, but since we both are..."

"Okay, now, butt against the wall, too. Rotate your pelvis forward a little, get the small of your back against it." She patted Jenny's tummy. "Suck this in - not much, you're flat already. Yeah, and put your shoulder blades flat against the mirror. That's right. Head back. Tuck the chin in a little. Get those shoulders flat back, Jenny." She pressed Jenny's shoulders against the glass.

"Feels weird."

"Sure. No one stands exactly like that often, or for very long. One thing more - pretend there's a string coming out the top of your head, and someone's pulling on it. Right, it pulls you right up.

"Now, without changing the way you're standing - can you do this? - walk two steps toward me. Right, and stand there. Now hold that, and turn half-way back. Keep your back straight! Now, turn just your head to the mirror. What do you see?"

"God! That's me and I look fabulous." Then she giggled. "But I look like I had a pole up my backside."

"Now, turn all the way and look straight ahead. Here, let me get those shoulders back again. Don't forget about the string." Dana's hands pulled her shoulders into position. "Tell me what you see."

"I look like I'm ten feet tall, Dana. But I can't go around like this."

"Not naked, you can't, but you can do the rest of it - stand like that, I mean. Look." She went to the mirror and turned, placing her back against it as Jenny had done. She stepped forward and turned as Jenny had. "Do you see a difference from how I looked before?"

"Golly, you mean you stand like that all the time, naturally? I guess you do. No wonder you look so swell. Is that all there is to it?"

"No, but first do something else. Put your dress on again."

Jenny reached for her bra. "No," Dana said, "Don't put that on now. Just the dress, nothing else. And don't look in the mirror."

When the dress was in place and fastened, Dana said, "Up against the wall, Jenny. Pull on the string."

Jenny backed up to the wall, and Dana made sure her posture was as before. "Hold on a second," she said, and went to the laundry basket, picking up a clothespin.