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Chapter One

In document Hefnerland - The Book (Page 30-34)


It all started when I arrived at the age of thirty. A woman’s worst nightmare: getting old. One day that look in the mirror will prove the dreaded evidence that all those childhood dreams of being an actress, model, or someone famous could not be realized. I had put all those dreams and fantasies aside when I was twenty-one while I pursued a successful career as an owner of a chain of clothing stores. It was true that I had a beautiful four-thousand square foot house that was completely paid for, great cars, furnishings, financial success, and the admiration of my employees. It wasn’t enough. The one dream that stood out the most was being a Playboy centerfold.

It wasn’t just that I was getting older . . . it was a turning point. I wanted to do something special.

Maybe for someone else this moment happens when turning forty. Maybe someone else might want to climb a mountain, enter a marathon, bungee jump or skydive. Fly to Paris. But I had all the material possessions I wanted. I wanted to do something so that when I was sixty, I could look back and say, “See what I did!”

I was in the poolroom amongst all my Playboy memorabilia when it hit me. I was going to do it. It wasn’t too late. How come I had never thought of this before? Not at any time in my life did I take the time to actually submit my pictures. I decided I needed a strategy. I was a businesswoman. I could do this. I applied all the common sense and drive that had taken me to where I was to the goal of being a Playmate. I realized that at thirty, realistically I had only a very remote chance of being a Playmate. I researched about a year of Playboy magazines and found that the oldest one was twenty-six. If I were going to have a chance of

achieving my goal, being four years older than the average, I would have to really look terrific. I would have to have an edge, the look, the figure, the personality—everything.

For starters, I would need someone teach me to do my makeup well. I never really wore makeup through high school and still didn’t, just a little blush and mascara. I was going to need to look the part. A model friend of mine gave me a list of makeup artists, and I called the one she recommended the most. I told the makeup artist that I had just turned thirty and wanted to look younger, sexier—more “Playboy-ish.”

When she came to our house, Bruce, now my boyfriend, videotaped the makeup session so I could watch it over and over again to learn the techniques. Within a week, I threw out all the old makeup I had and purchased everything new from different stores all over town. It cost hundreds of dollars, but I was thrilled with my new look. I watched the video daily. I was on the way to a new me! To demonstrate how little I knew about self beauty the gal that was doing my makeup started to pluck my eyebrows.

My first reaction was “Ouch.”

Makeup Lady: When was the last time you had your eyebrows plucked?

Jill Ann: I never have. Why . . . do they need to be?

Makeup Lady: Oh yes!

Flipping through a local paper I came across an ad for a personal trainer. To get the look I wanted, dedication was the name of the game. Having already had breast surgery a few years before, they were still perky and beautiful. My teeth were straight from having braces as a child. I had been told by many boys that I had great legs a tiny waist and outstanding breasts. I was lucky to be thin and a natural dirty blonde.

Through the years, many friends had already told me I should send my pictures in to Playboy. Many people thought I was a model.

If I was in danger of being automatically dismissed because of my age, I also needed a gimmick.

Playboy often featured women who were firefighters, police officers, featured on a reality show . . . women who were some sort of celebrity or who had something unusual about themselves or their career. I was none of these—but I had been playing Texas Hold ‘em on nearly a daily basis for over eight years. So I hatched a plan: Get in shape and send in my pictures and tell them that I was a tournament poker player. If they had a rule on age limit for being a Playmate, then they could do a poker article on me like they do the firefighters and police gals.

I tried not to get depressed and started reflecting on other people’s ages. Thirty was the old twenty, and forty was the old thirty. People were exercising and staying in shape . . . the old definitions of sexy were flying out the window. People over thirty at the time were very popular. Jennifer Lopez, thirty-one;

Lucy Liu, thirty-three; Faith Hill, thirty-four; Nicole Kidman, thirty-four; Ashley Judd, thirty-three; Gwyneth Paltrow, twenty-nine; Sarah Jessica Parker, star of the sexiest show on television, thirty-four; Julia Roberts, America’s biggest females star, thirty-four; Cameron Diaz, twenty-nine; Sandra Bullock, one of America’s sweetheart actresses, thirty-nine; Carmen Electra, thirty-two; Pamela Anderson, thirty-seven; Angelina Jolie, twenty-nine; Beth Ostrosky, Howard Stern’s sexy girlfriend, thirty-two; Lisa Marie Presley, thirty-six; Meg Ryan, forty-two; Jennifer Aniston thirty-five; Cameron Diaz, thirty-one; Winona Ryder, thirty-two. I took heart that the last playmate was twenty-nine (Tina Marie Jordan) instead of the prior twenty-six years old being the oldest in the past few years. The stars of Beverly Hills 90210 were also no longer high school kids.

Tori Spelling was thirty; Jason Priestley was thirty-three; and Jennie Garth was thirty-one, and so on. No, I told myself, I was not too old!

The personal trainer came out to the house. I didn’t tell him about my plans for Playboy. I’m not sure if I told him that I wanted to look like a Playmate, but I did say I wanted lean muscles, great curves—not bulky.

You can skip this paragraph if you choose, but a lot of people asked me how I got into shape. Here is a list of all the exercises I was to do. Day One: prisoner squat w/chair, lunges, side lunge-straight leg, calf raise, abduction w/tube, one leg dip squat, leg extension. Trunk; roll up, bicycle, leg lift to sky, 45-degree leg lift, physioball crunch, feet on ball angles, machine crunch. Day Two: Chest—close grip, lat pull down, shrug, seated row, DB Front Raise, DB Lateral Raise, DB Rear Delt Raise, DB Curl, Cep Pushdown-elbow in side, DB Hammer Curl, DB Triceps Extension, Finger pumps. Trunk—Half Crunch-legs still, Opposite Elbow to knee, Leg Straight Reach, Arms Middle Crunch, Side Crunch, Full Crunch, ridge hip to sky, Superman. Day Three: Ball Squat, Tube Walks for side, Leg Extension, Leg Curl, One Leg Squat, Calf Raise, Wide Leg Prisoner Squat. Trunk—Roll up, Bicycle, Leg lift to sky, 45 degree leg lift. Physioball Crunch, Feet on balls—Angles, Machine Crunch. Day Four: Chest-close grip, Lat pull down, Seated row, DB Triceps Kickback, DB Triceps Kickback, DB Padded Curl, DB Front Raise, DB Lateral Raise, DB Rear Delt Raise, Machine Curl, Triceps Dips, Finger Pumps. Trunk; Half Crunch with legs still, Opposite Elbow to knee, Leg straight reach, Arms Middle Crunch, Side Crunch, Full Crunch, Bridge hip to sky, Superman, Holdem-up Elbows, Holdem up-Side, Physioball, Bug Opposite arm/ Opposite leg, Side to Side with weights.

I was feeling good. My trainer had me on a special diet. By the time he was through, I felt I was ready.

The only things I didn’t like were my thighs. No matter what I tried, they didn’t change. Most women, I suppose, have that one body part they’re displeased with. I knew that, realistically speaking, most women would have been thrilled to look like I did probably, but I wanted nothing but a lean, mean, sexy body, and I continued to complain. The trainer continued to make me do more and more exercises.

Finally, point blank he said, “You’re thirty. You’re never going to have the body you did at twenty.”

I was literally devastated. I wanted Playboy to have no excuse except my age. Because I had already undergone breast surgery a few years before, I guess for me, plastic surgery did not seem like a drastic option.

I sincerely believed if there was something you did not like about yourself, and you had the power/money to change it through modern medicine, you should. I went to a local doctor in Arizona, even though I was 115 pounds and 14 percent body fat. I showed him what I didn’t like. I told him flat-out what my plan was. He

32 suggested inner and outer liposuction. I figured that, while I was at it, I would get larger implants. I had to stand out—not freaky—but I had to have an edge over the hundreds of other twenty-four-year-old girls who get implants. I also asked about my lips. The doctor said that he could weave a rope to the upper and lower lips to make them slightly fuller. I added that procedure to the list.

In one day, my inner and outer thighs were slimmed, both lips were fuller, and my breasts doubled in size. The pain was incredible. My lips were so swollen I looked like a monkey. I could not lie on either side and wore spandex pants for optimum results.

I was told to purchase a ton of frozen peas. Bruce, my nurse, would put them in a zip lock bag and set small amounts of peas on my lips. As soon as the bag of peas would start to get warm, my lips were in tons of pain. This is when more new peas would be applied to stop the agony. I was told by Bruce not to look in the mirror, and I didn’t. He later told me after I was well that they were so gross and blue that he could not get that image out of his mind. They looked like they were going to burst and explode everywhere. He begged me never to do that again. The breast pain was nothing at all and my arms were not even sore like the first time. I figured they would be in worse pain because of having to remove the prior saline bags and then insert another bag in their place. Also breast tissue was cut out to give me more cleavage in the middle because my first set of breasts was fairly wide with not much cleavage.

The lipo was the worst experience because of the removal of high-pressure shorts that you could barely move up or down. I had to have the smallest pair of shorts on to firmly hold my new movement of skin. By removing some excess fat in this procedure, like all patients there was some loose skin and the longer I wore the compression pants the smother my “new” legs would be. For over three months I wore these damn things. The best thing about the entire operation was the new breasts were perfect in size, and amazingly the toothache that had plagued me for years was gone! This was worth a celebration.

The next problem was the liposuction seemed not to be perfectly even on my legs. I had very high expectations, and if I was going to grace the pages of Playboy this was not going to do it. They had to be perfect. I showed them to the doctor and instead of a normal doctor saying you need to wear the compression pants longer or that is the way your body reacted or something along those lines, he said he needed to go back in and redo them and he wouldn’t charge me anything but the hospital room and anesthetics. I had already been told I could not exercise for six months and now having to go back in again was going to set me back additionally. He took me in almost right away and did the procedure. This time a slight problem happened. I am not sure why, but the anesthesiologist did not give me enough medicine. I had lips, lipo, and breasts the time before and the pain was bearable for the entire time.

This time waking up in the recovery room I noticed a pain that was so incredible that I felt I was going to pass out. I wished so much that I could have passed out. I explained to the doctor my problem of severe pain and they said they could give me more pain medicine, but then I would have to stay in the hospital for an additional amount of time to monitor my results and what they gave me would not be anywhere near the strength of my own medicine I could take once I got home.

I decided to risk going home instead since this doctor was much closer than the prior doctor. The drive was only about a ½ hour till I would be home. On the way home the most blinding pain came my way.

Almost unable to control the crying I was not sure what to do. I felt it was unbearable, unbelievable, and undesirable. The pain pill did nothing to stop the pain. Calling the doctor about an hour later he told me I could take an additional pill. Instead of being in “la la land” and waking up the following day sore and miserable, it was the longest night of my life. The following week continued to be severe with pain. I was told there was nothing wrong and that it was normal. I wasn’t sure if going right back in so soon to the same areas had done it or not enough drugs on the operating table at the hospital had made me flip around so much that I had wounded myself inside. The bruises this time from the lipo were so frightening that I could barely stand to look at my legs. They were a deep black and blue.

My lips had gone down, and now it seemed completely as though no rope had been hand woven from one end to the next. I was disappointed to say the least. I had thin lips again. I would be forced to draw them in again with lip liner to get them to look pouty and full.

I stuck to my strict diet that my fitness trainer had me on. I did not tell him my plans of surgery and just told him I was going to take a break for awhile. I was going to surprise him with the results. I didn’t tell anyone in my family that I was having this done and, until this book, I have never admitted to the liposuction.

The waiting began. I had six months before I could work out again.

My age clock continued ticking away. Talk about a boring six months being on my strong diet not allowing the time to become fat or have more appear on my thighs! I couldn’t work out; I couldn’t eat anything that was not on my list! I maintained my diet and spent time working on and preparing my plan.

When the time came for my trainer to return, he couldn’t believe what I’d done. He worked with me for two months getting into the shape I wanted for my first photos to be submitted to Playboy. As a final touch, I went through the very painful procedure of Botox. (This is to remove all wrinkles from forehead or eye area, or wherever you put the painful injection. It paralyzes this section of your face so that there will be no wrinkles.

Many of the movie stars use this to look much younger.) It is the process of mixing two things together and putting them in a needle and then taking this same needle and pressing them down to areas of your skin that have wrinkles and releasing the fluid to this area. To get the exact places you want the doctor will make you squint or frown and mark your face with little pin marks for him to remember where to put the injection. It is an intense pain, but since I had already been through so much what was a little more.

The saddest thing was my lips were still very thin, so I paid an additional amount of money to have collagen injected in my lips. We are talking the worst pain ever is injecting a needle into your lip every little inch all the way along to give your lips a perfect even injection of collagen. I was so glad this painful

procedure was done and over with and the Botox was amazing. It was like it gave me an immediate semi facelift. It even seemed to raise my eyebrows to give me a more youthful look. I was completely thrilled with the process, and I could smile great big and happy without having any lines on my face. I looked like I was twenty-one again. I also had Epilight treatments on lower arms, bikini line, lower legs, and knees. I paid a ton for the service, and it didn’t do a dang thing. I did three full painful treatments with this intense light. They put this thick freezing cream in a large spot and then they would zap this hot electrical device on that section of my hair. They said it was supposed to be low pain. It wasn’t, and it was a waste of all of my money as well. They said it probably didn’t work because I have such blonde hair. Granted I am jumping ahead because I went thought the treatment for many of months, and it still didn’t work. I thought it would be so awesome that I would have hairless leg and bikini.

Nonetheless, all this gives readers an idea of what I was willing to do to achieve that perfection that people have come to expect of a Playmate.


In document Hefnerland - The Book (Page 30-34)