I Have No Desire To

Look At The Parts The Oscar-nominated Actresses Played This Year: Hooker, Hooker, Hooker, Hooker, And Nun.

You're Born, You Die. Everything In Between Is Subject To Interpretation.

If Pregnancy Were A Book, They Would Cut The Last Two Chapters. The Beginning Is Glorious, Especially If You're Lucky Enough Not To Have Morning Sickness And If, Like Me, You've Had Small Breasts All Your Life. Suddenly They Begin To Grow, And You've Got Them, You've Really Got Them, Breasts, Darling Breasts, And When You Walk Down The Street They Bounce, Truly They Do, They Bounce Bounce Bounce.

Washington Is A City Of Locker-room Boys, And All The Old, Outmoded Notions Apply: Men And Women Are Ushered To Separate Rooms After Dinner, Sex Is Dirty, And They Are Still Serving Onion-soup Dip.

That's Another Thing About Being A Certain Age That I've Noticed: I Try As Much As Possible Not To Look In The Mirror.