Technically, I look like the combination of my mother's egg and my father's sperm; but because they didn't look like Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis, that's not much help.



I have a standard poodle. If people look like their dogs, I look like I'm having a good hair day after he's groomed.

In LA people are said to look like their cars because we spend so much time in them. Because I have a '69 Mercedes, I hope I look like I'm improving with age.

If you judge a book by its cover, mine is black. I wear black because it's practical, everything matches and I'm always ready for the demise of a goldfish.

Wearing a wedding ring makes me look married, wearing a watch makes me look responsible and wearing heels with jeans makes me look like I have high expectations.

Then there's the school of thought that says by acting confident or successful or graceful or whatever, you can fool your subconscious and become those things. If that's true, I can look confident about successfully looking graceful in my new, three-inch heels - except on Mondays. I know how I look on Mondays - not ready for a new week.

Supposedly a camera never lies; but when my picture is taken, I'm sure it exaggerates - especially my hips.

When it comes to mirrors, some people think you'll have seven years bad luck if you break one. I'm not superstitious. I think you'll have bad luck only if the mirror is replaced.

My grandmother believed a woman had the face she wanted until age forty and then she had the face she deserved. Plastic surgery has made sixty the new forty; but in spite of age-defying, collagen-enhanced cosmetics, Grandmother believed a woman wouldn't sparkle without inner beauty.

I hope I sparkle. Sparkle is just what my black outfits need. Although I think I look better than I did ten years ago, my eyes are ten years older.

A few weeks ago someone told me I look just like her friend. I'd like to see her friend so I'd know how I look to others. For myself, I just want to look happy.