Most of my life I have expressed disdain for the kind of woman who rides on her looks. Bimbos! But to be honest, I have cheated. Although I may not have worn the trappings of a bimbo, I was a bimbo at heart. I gloated at admiring glances and flirtatious overtures. I savored the advantages my prettiness gave me over homelier women.
Despite my best efforts, I never would have been able to relinquish my bimbo benefits. So in a way, cancer did me a favor by depriving me of my pretty hair and graceful figure. I can now live with an undivided heart. I can now say with full sincerity that it’s what’s inside that counts. No one believes me, of course. Not really. Especially pretty girls. But it’s true. Really.