Plain Jane I Am Not
Winter me though, harder to see
Having the name Jenny Lane means at some point someone will call me Jane. Essentially, it’s my full name condensed, so I get it. Part of life.
Plain Jane, without the extra letters.
Hearing it though, does suck me back into my plain Jane mode. A place I’ve been grappling with since adolescence.
Here I am today, thinking about this again, about Jane again.
Should I break out the makeup? Will my two-year-old mascara dissolve my eyes if I put it on? Has it grown legs and gone South for the Summer?
But it’s the way you express your art, with shading and colors, art on your face canvas. No old makeup though save the eyes!
You don’t need it.
But you do, on your blank white winter carried canvas with no sun glow.
The flip flop of this and the inner critic gets loud.
Oh free bare feet how I miss you!
The winter carried version outsides of me are harder to accept.
I still have issues loving parts of me sometimes.
My hair darkens, was only the other day I discovered what color it matches, tree bark. But I do love tree beings. Tree hugger in the house!
