So this is me, plane ol’ jane… “Good ol’ plane jane” you say, almost audibly. You smile even, pleased to have stumbled upon this here site. “Simplicity’s so hard to come by nowadays” you think, philosophically. You glance briefly at my profile pic; “Could do with a lil’ hair though” you mutter to yourself. But you’re not going to hold that one against me, you resolve decidedly. You’re a sport like that. There’s definitely something endearing about someone who can, so wholly, resign themselves to a life of complete and utter “somewhatness” you muse. You admire the neither here nor there take on life which, you are almost certain, has come to be mine. “Good ol’ plane jane” you say. “Now there’s a plain girl for you…”
“Now wait a bleating second!” you say as you straighten yourself up in your chair. You’ve now given the whole page a thorough once over. “Who could be the seemingly deliriously happy couple pictured on the top right hand side of the page” you wonder. You’re not at all fazed by the blindingly obvious danger which the handsome couple seems to have found itself in. No your confusion, my dear friend, stems from the realisation that neither one of the two people/ persons/personii pictured resembles, what you have now come to believe to be, me.
“there’s a laughably logical explanation for all this good friend” I write reassuringly. You see the slender, sleek haired, stylish personification of complete and utter fabulossity pictured above (holding ever so dearly onto the equally scrumptious gentleman before her) is infact “future me” …
“Ofcourse it is” you agree sinking comfortably back into your seat. And for a brief moment you feel the colour rushing to your cheeks. You’re a little embarrassed by your poor observation skills as well as, perhaps, your lack of imaginative thinking. However, being the ever astute individual that I am, I notice that you still exhibit clear signs of confusedness. I understand almost immediately what it is that may still be boggling your sweet little mind. …”That’s the Ken-Doll” I write. “The gentleman at the helm of the wince-inducingly hazardous bike ride; that’s the Ken-Doll.”
“Ahhuh!” you mutter audibly to yourself. The light has now been turned on, albeit slowly. You urge me on, telepathically ofcourse….
The Ken-Doll is every bit the decedent scrumptiossity in his present incarnation as the picture implies of his “future self.”
He also happens to be every bit a part of my life now as the picture implies of my “future life.” He is every bit as dear to me now as he appears to be to the “future me.” In other words, if you were to take away the dangerous locomotive contraption with unconventionally shaped wheels, the glossy well manicured mane of hair from the delicate looking lady person, and if you were to add- give or take- a few extra pounds to her waif waist line you my friend would be left with a pretty darn accurate picture of the Ken-Doll and I as we stand at present.
You take a generous swig of your now luke-warm coffee. You nod. You’ve still some burning questions though, like “Did I remember to switch off the living room lights” and “Just how feasible are some of those energy saving tips you’ve downloaded on the net” but mostly you’re wondering “How could someone as well sculpted and poised as the Ken-Doll wind up with a plane ol’ jane such as myself?”
I nod. I understand. I have asked my self the very same set of questions countless times in my life before. We bond, you and I. we have a common endeavour. We know it will take time, we know it will take astonishingly large quantities of liquarice-free-liquarice and red wine to finally arrive at the answer. But we’re not afraid, we’re tough cookies you and I!
We both down what little remains of our now stone cold coffee. “Good ol’ plane jane” you say. “Now there’s a plain girl for you…”
“Now wait a bleating second!” you say as you straighten yourself up in your chair. You’ve now given the whole page a thorough once over. “Who could be the seemingly deliriously happy couple pictured on the top right hand side of the page” you wonder. You’re not at all fazed by the blindingly obvious danger which the handsome couple seems to have found itself in. No your confusion, my dear friend, stems from the realisation that neither one of the two people/ persons/personii pictured resembles, what you have now come to believe to be, me.
“there’s a laughably logical explanation for all this good friend” I write reassuringly. You see the slender, sleek haired, stylish personification of complete and utter fabulossity pictured above (holding ever so dearly onto the equally scrumptious gentleman before her) is infact “future me” …
“Ofcourse it is” you agree sinking comfortably back into your seat. And for a brief moment you feel the colour rushing to your cheeks. You’re a little embarrassed by your poor observation skills as well as, perhaps, your lack of imaginative thinking. However, being the ever astute individual that I am, I notice that you still exhibit clear signs of confusedness. I understand almost immediately what it is that may still be boggling your sweet little mind. …”That’s the Ken-Doll” I write. “The gentleman at the helm of the wince-inducingly hazardous bike ride; that’s the Ken-Doll.”
“Ahhuh!” you mutter audibly to yourself. The light has now been turned on, albeit slowly. You urge me on, telepathically ofcourse….
The Ken-Doll is every bit the decedent scrumptiossity in his present incarnation as the picture implies of his “future self.”
He also happens to be every bit a part of my life now as the picture implies of my “future life.” He is every bit as dear to me now as he appears to be to the “future me.” In other words, if you were to take away the dangerous locomotive contraption with unconventionally shaped wheels, the glossy well manicured mane of hair from the delicate looking lady person, and if you were to add- give or take- a few extra pounds to her waif waist line you my friend would be left with a pretty darn accurate picture of the Ken-Doll and I as we stand at present.
You take a generous swig of your now luke-warm coffee. You nod. You’ve still some burning questions though, like “Did I remember to switch off the living room lights” and “Just how feasible are some of those energy saving tips you’ve downloaded on the net” but mostly you’re wondering “How could someone as well sculpted and poised as the Ken-Doll wind up with a plane ol’ jane such as myself?”
I nod. I understand. I have asked my self the very same set of questions countless times in my life before. We bond, you and I. we have a common endeavour. We know it will take time, we know it will take astonishingly large quantities of liquarice-free-liquarice and red wine to finally arrive at the answer. But we’re not afraid, we’re tough cookies you and I!
We both down what little remains of our now stone cold coffee. “Good ol’ plane jane” you say. “Now there’s a plain girl for you…”
