My life is a mess. I didn’t realize this until late yesterday afternoon when I sat down with an InStyle and an O magazine. Thank God I read them though, as I apparently have the wrong hair, clothes, mate, moisturizer, mascara, shoes, jewelry and, I suspect, breath.

Why do women read these things? The more pages I flipped through, the more I became convinced my life was lacking. While 20 minutes earlier the only thing I was craving was a piece of dark chocolate, suddenly I was obsessed with cuter clothes, oversized purses, bangles on my arm, chunky hairlights, and instigating a complete home/body make-over.

I was on the couch reading and Blair was in the leather chair across the room.

“I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” I announced, pausing on a page.