I care. I care a lot. I think of Cosmopolitan all day, and I run scared. So it's a combination of fright, caring and anxiety.

I guess I'm a survivor. There are many of us survivors and any successful woman of my age has somewhat of that in her.

Nearly every glamorous, wealthy, successful career woman you might envy now started out as some kind of schlep.

I think you keep two sets of books. In one set, you record the truth -- how well you are really doing. This is the secret set -- just for you and loved ones. In the other set are more modest entries and statements, and these are for public consumption!

It's unrealistic to think you can only have one good product. People are not that poor. They can buy what they want.

If you're a little mouseburger, come with me. I was a mouseburger and I will help you. You're so much more wonderful than you think. Cosmopolitan is shot full of this stuff although outsiders don't realize it. It is, in its way, an inspiration magazine.

We are told to value ourselves without feedback, but if nobody is making a pass at you or trying to take you to Bermuda, how are you supposed to feel? Confident?