Tag Archives: cellulite

The Jenny Isenman Show | Anti Aging Episode (VIDEO)

This week, on The Jenny Isenman Show, I’m discussing the best fixes for my most worthy adversaries: enlarged pores, wrinkles, sags, uneven skin tone, and cellulite, with the author of Forget the Facelift, (one of my dream guests) Dr. Doris Day. She kinda frequents all the morning shows: Good Morning America, The Dr. Oz Show, The View ... to name a few.

She’s even talked cutting-edge procedures with Barbara Walters on 20/20. I would totally stalk her if I had more time. I tell her about the stalking in our interview, and I’m not gonna lie, she looks nervous about it!

In the segment you will:

  • find out which random place I’ve gotten Botox and why it’s a kind of awesome new trend.
  • learn how heat energy can lift sagging!
  • see a picture of me at prom … in a gold lame dress … that had a turtleneck!
  • see the results of the newest lasers and laser alternatives.
  • learn how to properly berate people who are younger and wrinkle-free (F@ckers)

ENJOY!

If you learned anything from the video, even if it’s that I was super cheesy in the 80’s or that Dr. Day has incredible legs, please like/share it and pass it on to your friends. I’m tryin’ to make this a full time gig!

Behind the scenes extra:  I was sick as a dog when filming and Dr. Day offered to bring me to a walk-in clinic somewhere in the middle of Jersey City at 8PM. Smart, knows her stuff, chills with the stars, and is willing to hang with the sick girl, she was pretty incredible.

XO –

Jenny From the Blog

 

 

 

The More My Butt Sags the Shorter the Shorts

I’ve found that this is a foolproof way to firm those dimply lumps of fat and lift that butt. Wait, did I say foolproof, I may mean fool-worthy, ahem, the jury’s out. But either way, I’ll tell you my theory, and I’m sure you’ll thank me later. Well, that or send me hate mail, but definitely one or the other.

Lately, I’ve been delving into how totally insane and irrational I am. I know, it’s fun for you too. So, I’m taking a look at one of my “tricks” that makes sense in my effed up mind. My rationale is that the more sagging and cellulite I have the shorter the shorts I must wear. Like, as a punishment. Oh, you think I’m kidding, but I kid you not. Continue reading

10 Things I Wanted to do with My Life and Clearly Never Will

It’s my birthday.  Yes, I know “Happy to Me” and all, I’m not feeling so happy.  Actually, I kinda want to be serious for a minute.  It is Friday the 13th ohhhhhhh.  Respect.  I don’t know what that means ’cause I’m Jewish.  But here goes:
I – WILL – NEVER – BE – FAMOUS!!!!!!

Imagine stamping feet between each word.

What? I said I was going to be serious, not mature!

January 13th marks the first day of the last year in my 30‘s.  I know, I could have said that more succinctly – but you know what?  It’s my birthday, so I get to do what I want!

Most importantly, in this day filled with the logging of new wrinkles and the circling of new cellulite dimples that I will have to remove at 40, and assessing what I have not accomplished and what I will never accomplish.

Holy shit.  I will never be famous.  Look, you don’t have to have wanted to be a famous actress, writer, singer, talk show host… from the age of 3 to relate; you merely have to have wanted a certain success that looks less likely to occur as the years pass.  You have to get that urge to sob uncontrollably at the bleak outlook that is your professional or social future, but you should squelch such antics as you’re in the middle of a parent teacher meeting and you really should be paying attention. (wait, that’s just me.)

I was all prepped for fame.  At 5, I was singing outside of restaurants, attracting throngs of people who said things to my mother like, “Oy, you should take her to try out for Annie,” “My G-d that child can sing.” and “Miss, could you please move, you and your child are blocking the entrance.” Were they talent scouts whose opinions could’ve translated into the big bucks?

Probably not.

But they knew good deli and they loved a fatty corned beef on Rye, so that gives them credibility right?  I’m sure many talent execs know good deli, so really it’s quite the same thing.

If I were 5 today, I’d certainly be famous.  Someone would’ve YouTubed me and it would’ve gone viral and I would’ve been befriended by Usher and I would’ve made an inspirational movie called “Never Say Never.”

What, that happened to someone else?

See, it’s a clear case of bad timing.

Here are things I wanted so badly to do with my life that I clearly never will:
1.  Be a Part of  the Kings of Comedy tour
2.  Sing a Duet with Shawn Cassidy
3.  Replace Marie on the Donny and Marie Show Continue reading

A Freudian Slip to Make Freud Blush | Oh, This Really Happened

I know he seems more angry than "blushy" but YOU try and get a picture of him embarrassed!

This post needs to be filed in the crevices of my mind where repressed memories are stored and then covered up by something to obsess about, like my cellulite, or the wrinkles on my face that multiply faster then the Duggar family.


Maybe I could slide this memory somewhere between my talent show version of Gonna Dress You up In My Love and my entire 7th grade year.  Well, here goes…Recently at a baseball game, a mom friend and I were having a bout of witty banter that went terribly horribly irrefutably awry.

I can’t blame myself for how far it actually went, as I’m quite sure something else in the universe caused these events to unfold as they did.  Some butterfly in Africa probably told a really tacky joke which set off the chain of events off in the first place.  You know, something that started with “An ant and a grasshopper are looking for insect porn.”  Well, I actually can’t pretend to know what kind of joke a butterfly would tell, but one can assume.

Me and this chick were joking about a penchant many women have to bedazzle everything. Frankly, I don’t know how every word on their t-shirts is bedecked and bejeweled or how they have so many extra gem filled grommets and studs on their jeans, their sweats, their shoes, their handbags, their children, and their cellphones.  I just know that the glare makes it hard to look in their direction for fear of burning a retina.

Amy: Jenny, why don’t YOU have anything bedazzled?

Me:  Oh, I do, you just can’t see it.

Amy:  Where is it?

Me:  My belly-button.  I have one of those sticky diamond tattoos in the shape of a baseball.  It helps me get into the game.

Amy:  You could tie your t-shirt southern style to show your support for your team.  The dads would love that.

Me:  No, I like to take the shirt from the bottom and pull it up through the neck hole.  You know, camp style? The dads will definitely enjoy that one ‘cuz a boob inevitably falls out.

Amy: And then your hubby could bedazzle something for the moms.

Me:  Done.

Amy: Noooo?

Me:  Yes, his penis is bedazzled to look like a bat… and when Jake’s up, Mark runs over and whacks me on the stomach with it and we all scream “Go Jake, whack that ball.”

Amy:  Nuh uh?

Me:  Yuh huh.

Oh, it went there.  There was no stopping this tacky reparte train, but what happened next turned said train into a locomotive careening off the tracks. I turned towards my hubby who was sitting on the other set of bleachers and screamed, “Mark, come on over here and show Amy your penis.”

Let me tell you two things in my defense.  1.  I meant to say “bat.”  “Mark, come over here and show Amy your BAT.”  You know, joke joke, wink wink, snicker snicker?  No harm done. No children traumatized for life.  2.  There were about 10 kids all aged 9 a row in from of us on the bleachers. ALL of which turned around and stared me right in the eye!

Amy looked at me, mouth agape.

Me:  Did I just say what I think I said?

Amy:  Oh…my…G-d, you did.

Kid on bleachers:   Did you just say penis?

Amy’s son:  Why do you want my mom to look at Jake’s dad’s penis?

That is perhaps one of the most horrifying questions I’ve ever been asked.  I can still hear it my head as if said in slow motion through a Darth Vader mask.

Amy’s son:  Continuing without pause, “Why would you say that?”

Oh G-d, a question worse than the first, which was punctuated by 10 sets of impressionable eyes trying to stare the answer out of me.

I looked to Amy who was giggling so uncontrollably she could barely stop long enough to say this: “Yeah, why would you say that?”

But she did.

After what felt like an eternity.  I replied, “Did I say penis?”

10 nine year olds in perfect unison: Yep.

Me:  Hee hee hee (fake laugh with snort added for good measure) Nooooo, I meant peanuts.  Your mom was hungry and I wanted Mark to come share his peanuts.  I can’t believe it sounded like that.  That’s so funny, right?  Hee hee ha ha ho ho snort.  Right?

“Ohhhhhh well it sounded like penis,” said the spokesperson for 10 inquisitive kids who enjoy nothing more than the mention of genitalia, diareah, or a good fart joke.

Me:  Just me crazy accent.  Dunt chew knaw? Yes, that was supposed to be “Don’t you know” and it was said in a desperate mix of Jamaican, Irish, and Bostonian with a dash of Catherine Hepburn.

Amy looked at me sidesways as if I was having some weird speech seizure and 10 disinterested kids turned back to watch the game.

Phew.  Thank goodness for easily bored, quickly distracted, ADD ridden children. Not everyone recovers from such a racy and totally inappropriate Freudian slip.  Boot eye deed.

Note to self: NEVER talk to Amy again and stop bedazzeling Mark’s penis!

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If Jennifer Love Hewitt can Beat Cellulite, Gosh Darnit, So Can I