UPDATE:
Reading more about the Jeffrey Epstein sex-trafficking case, one that I’ve been looking at since it came out several years ago, I spotted Naomi Campbell’s name among his associates.

I don’t like erasing the whole post, so I’ve just deleted that part. I’m afraid it doesn’t make the same sense any more. But I hate to endorse anyone whose name appears in Epstein’s black book.

DELETED

I tried the “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” look for a very short period of my life – four months, to be precise.

Five-inch heels, a hat, and a classic black dress  I starved myself to get into.

Green cigarette-holder (senza cigarette).

I even got a wig. It was great while it lasted, but you needed a ballerina’s boy body  for it.

I hid my ink-stained wretchedness behind a fake Mme de Winter persona.

I now realize I probably had severe body image problems at the time.

Of course, it was all theater. Not an ounce of reality. Just play-acting.

But the little masquerade  worked.

I cheered up.

In a few months, I lost the size six dress and went back to my comfortable weight. Now, I tramp around in old jeans and over-sized t-shirts, my hands caked with dust and dirt most of the time.

I look at beautiful women as I look at beautiful birds or animals – as one more reason to love the God who made them.

And, after that, I don’t give them much thought.