In New York And La, There Is

Normally, I Am A Vocal Advocate For 'looking Both Ways' And 'knowing The Size Of One's Own Body.' But Working, Socialising And Simply Running Errands In Manhattan, Means I Am Bound To Break My Own Rules On Occasion.

I Can Say With A Solid Degree Of Authority That I Am A Selfish Person. I Spontaneously Forget The Names Of More People Than Not, Unless I Want To Make Out With Them. I Will Take The Last Square Of Toilet Paper Off The Roll Without Thinking Twice. I Tip Taxi Drivers So Poorly I'm Amazed None Of Them Have Run Over My Foot While Speeding Off.

Time Grabs You By The Scruff Of Your Neck And Drags You Forward. You Get Over It, Of Course. Everyone Was Right About That. One Mathematically Insignificant Day, You Stop Hoping For Happiness And Become Actually Happy.

In New York, If You Weigh Under 200 Pounds And Decline So Much As A Cookie At A Co-worker's Party, Women Will Flock To Your Side, Assuring You Of Your Appealing Physique. This Is How Skittish We Are About The Dangers Of Anorexia And The Pressures Of Body Image.

Book Tours Are Such A Little Tapas Meal Of Where I Could Live.