If I Could Be Like Jennifer Taylor by Barbara Ehrentreu

Feed him and rub him under his chin, and he’ll cover you with slurpy kisses. Grabbing a paper towel, I wipe my face and lean to ruffle his soft fur.

He sees it and licks my face now I’m going to smell like dog food all day. I glance at his empty bowl and throw the rest of the muffin into it. Max, our five-year old Newfoundland raises his massive bear-like head, sniffing like he’s never eaten a thing in his life when he sees my muffin.

I almost trip over a lump blocking the door. If only I could be like Jennifer Taylor.Īfter picking up my book bag, I race down the stairs, take a couple of bites of a chocolate-chocolate chip muffin and a few sips of non-fat milk. I slip the hated outfit onto my body and glance at my bloated reflection in the mirror. She feels my head and looks at me with mother vision. Shivering, and my stomach and head hurt.” Moving the blanket up to my nose, I say, “Mom, I can't stop “Why are you still in bed?” She comes upstairs and peeks into my What was I thinking? How could I possibly go to school looking like such a freak?Īctually, the real reason I can’t go is Jennifer, with her long straightīlonde hair, perfect body, and clothes from magazines like Teen and Seventeen. Paired with the red long-sleeved T- shirt, they looked so good on the mannequin I’ll look like a stoplight. Don’t faint Carolyn, I tell myself, panting.ĭangling over the chair are those size twelve jeans, clown pants- hardly a fashion statement. My body curls into a fetal position, and I throw the covers over my head. Math class and Jennifer gym class with Jennifer. Suddenly it hits me, and I get this dizzy let-me-plop-on-the-pillow feeling. I see my new book bag is packed and ready by the door with the initials C. Worse luck, I have to do it, not as the slender blonde beauty in my dream, but as the real Carolyn Samuels with my brown curly hair hanging like shriveled spaghetti, mud brown eyes, and a body too large for fashion. Slamming my fist onto the snooze button, I get this nagging feeling. The dream evaporates, and I realize it’s the darn alarm piercing my sleep. The other cheerleaders run up to us laughing and kidding around, and I’m about to speak. I ignore it because I’m thin and blonde and floating in the arms of my dark-haired crush. He places the cake box in my locker so he can put his arms around me. I don’t have to worry about eating it because I can eat anything I want and not gain weight.

He smiles and feeds me a forkful of cake. I look up into his blue eyes and give him the box so I can touch his cheek as I smooth his dark hair. Inside is a piece of luscious chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. My Crush! He hands me the box, and I open it. I spot him walking toward my locker with a small box in one hand and a plastic fork in the other.

If I Could Be Like Jennifer Taylor by Barbara Ehrentreu