Is This You? Envy or Jealousy

The reflex to cover your eyes from the glaring sun is strong. Just as strong is the want you may have to see every inch of a full moon when it comes up over a mountain in all its yellow glow. Which is the stronger feeling? 

Along those same lines, is it envy or jealousy that has a stronger pull? The story goes like this. A friend from Southern California, yes, by the ocean, stinker. She owns a wonderful but nearly one of the last small ranch/farm orange orchards and is as filter-less as I am. She had what I will call a “Pretty Woman” moment when she went shopping recently. In her garb, she says she has been mislabeled as a homeless person. It wasn’t like she hit Rodeo Drive. No, she needed parts for a bathroom. She was wearing her everyday denim pants and a plaid shirt with an over the head apron with three pockets and work boots older than I am. Right pocket in the apron is for clippers, center for cell phone and left for clippings and rotten oranges. The salesperson poo-pooed her until she went to order over $500 worth of parts. Then, the green-eyed stink eye appeared when free oranges were discussed. She’s a pistol, for sure. If we are lucky, we at some time all have a friend like that. Yes, I too, envy her, and I think she envies some teeny parts of my existence, too, for just different reasons.

Jealousy, too, will get us into trouble. Jealousy is a good way to keep us, for lack of another word, in check as to letting our hearts get the best of our heads. There really should be a class to teach about envy and jealousy. Those are pretty easy to get mixed up with each other. Other than jealousy being green and envy being blue, here are a few observances of the two.

Take, for instance, wonderful back fat. Yes, back fat. Not the back fat on juicy pork baby back ribs. Dripping with sauce and...well, you know. I mean true, human back fat that follows you around, and you never see it on you, but you always see it on the lady in front of you in the buffet line. Lovely sight, isn’t it? Even if it’s just a slight bump, you know that sight. I am so aware of it that I envy a sleeveless, shirted lady in summer. I have a certain length of sleeve that I will not wear too short. A length that will not let my ole lady upper wings out to fly off, carrying me and my back fat to the far reaches of my booth. Yes, it is envy. Not really jealousy. That comes in later. There is front fat, too. Thankfully, until it is thrust in your face, back fat can all but be ignored because it is “back there.” 

Envy makes us sigh and go on with life’s journey. Jealousy. That sneaky and powerful emotion comes to the party and messes with common sense. It really isn’t a productive attribute like laughing or even swearing. I laugh with abandon, and sometimes I swear, like the lightning will never strike me. I do; when the words that sometimes are coming out of my pie hole are red hot flames, I will look up and say, “Sorry, Lord.” You know, just hedging my bets. He knows me.

Jealousy makes the average person look at what someone else has and want it more than they should. Like fresh oranges right off your very own tree. Next to the avocado tree, next to the lemon tree, next to the banana tree. Oh, those trees that someone I know has. Wink. Wink. Then? I hear about how she and her crew work their fingers to the bone, keeping her piece of heaven all ship shape., Jealousy fades when you realize the work it takes for someone to have something you don’t have. But you want so bad you miss the time, effort, and human selflessness put into what is in your neighbors’ yard. Or house. Or bank account. Or car. 1967 Chevy Chevelle SS. Blue with white racing stripes. Oops.

Then again. One thing she has that I just might let my green/blue monsters out to have for just a little while. She also owns a true strip mall that houses the very first Jack-in-the-Box. Ever. Pretty sure she rents out that space. But to be able to go in and get a Sourdough Jack and curly fries on the cuff? Oh, I am sooooo jealous. Back fat and all.

Trina lives in Diamond Valley. North of Eureka, Nevada. She loves to hear from readers. Email her at [email protected].

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