Optimism Can Be Relearnt.

I Love Prada. Not So Much The Clothes, Which Are For Malnourished Thirteen-year-olds, But I Covet, With Covety Covetousness, The Shoes And Handbags. Like, I Love Them. If I Was Given A Choice Between World Peace And A Prada Handbag, I'd Dither. (i'm Not Proud Of This, I'm Only Saying.)

For All Of My Life It Was The Size Of My Rear That Caused Me The Most Hand-wringing, But In This Nearly-50 Zone It Is My Stomach That Is The Problem. It Seems To Have Broken Free From Its Moorings And There Is No Knowing How Far It Will Roam.

I Haven’t Had Botox Because My Face Is A Bit Lopsided And I Depend On Keeping Everything Animated So That People Don’t Notice.

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Funnier.

I Never Wear Flats. My Shoes Are So High That Sometimes When I Step Out Of Them, People Look Around In Confusion And Ask, "where'd She Go?" And I Have To Say, "i'm Down Here.