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  • Writer's pictureJenny Wynter

Why Jealousy Sucks Hairy Buttocks: (Or “The Hole in The Green Eye”)

Jealousy sucks hairy buttocks.

Yes, you heard me.

Hairy ones.

I include my own in that statement, by the way (my jealousy, not my buttocks, which are beyond reproach).

When I feel myself getting embittered, usually by somebody else’s achievements – whether it be their career success, their incredibly buff and fat-free body or their incredibly gorgeous OWNED house – I hate myself for it. Really.

This is because:

a)     it’s not an attractive quality in anybody;

b)    It doesn’t actually HELP anything; and

c)     It’s not an attractive quality in anybody.

But the biggest thing that shits me about all this is the realisation that me being jealous of anybody is ridiculous and unfair because that person has taken steps that I myself have been unwilling/unable (for whatever reasons) to take.

Take, for instance, the body thing.

I have a friend who for all intents and purposes, several years ago, was a similar body shape to mine (I like to call it “flabby chic”). Suddenly, however, she decided to turn her body into a total temple of health, and she now looks AMAZING. All the freaking time.

Am I jealous? Hell yes! Of the RESULTS.

Am I jealous of her not letting a morsel of crap through her lips?

Am I jealous of the hours upon hours, days upon days and weeks upon weeks (soon to be years upon years) of physical effort that have gone into making her body the blossoming beacon of beauty that it is?

Am I jealous of the WORK?

Hell no.

I’m jealous of the RESULTS.

Or what about the incredible globe-trotting career of somebody like Lady Gaga, who can sell out seats faster than change meaty undergarments?

Am I jealous of the constant gigging, travelling and performing day-in and day-out and the personal sacrifices after sacrifices to make that happen? Well, to be honest, kinda. In another life, sans kids, I would actually love that. But…the reality is that I have a family who I actually WANT to be around. We’ve done the night-after-night performance thing  – albeit, not in a Gaga scope – yet have worked out that it cannot work for us. Festivals, short tours and little bursts of insanity? Yes. Week after week of incessant gigging? Nup. So in those terms, am I jealous of having to be away from my family to do that stuff? Am I jealous of the work?


I’m jealous of the RESULTS.

And finally, on a smaller scale, what about the many folks I know who now own their very gorgeous homes in very gorgeous places with very gorgeous creative touches that make it their own?

Am I jealous of the financials, the paperwork, the constant saving, the sacrifices that they’ve had to make to get there and continue to make to stay there? Am I jealous of the work?

Heck no.

I’m jealous of the RESULTS.

Which brings me back to my favourite subject of all, moi. I am so unique in that way, don’t you see?

When people get jealous of me – and yes, it does happen on occasion, thanks for asking – it’s usually about career stuff. I know this because they tell me. Often in no uncertain terms. This is especially true when it comes to overseas jaunts to do improv/comedy stuff.

And I get it. Because, as you can see from the evidence laid out before you, I get hit by the green-eyed monster as much as – if not more than – anybody.

But, I wonder, would anybody be jealous of our bank balance? This is, after all, the direct result of us committing to developing my career in the arts, even when it’s involved costly overseas jaunts. I want to point out here that while a couple of these trips have involved arts grants:

a)     every grant funded trip I’ve ever done has still included a significant personal cash investment;

b)    the two years we spent in Canada were 99% self-funded; as was last year’s Improv Masterclass in New York. My credit card says so.

Would they be jealous of the fact that because of this, we are unlikely to own a house anywhere we would want to live any time in this millennia?

And, money aside, would they be jealous of the amount of work – and it is a FREAKING LOT OF WORK – and sleep deprivation that are a direct result of trying to carve out this career thang?

This is not a pity party. I really am happy with these choices (and they are my CHOICES!). But I’m just sayin…



P.S. If I’m wrong and you can actually earn jealousy (i.e. “I worked just as hard as X, I put in all the same effort and therefore am entitled to my jealousy!”) then I salute both you and your green eye, sir/madam.

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