At school I got harassed so badly for being too tall, too thin, too pale - too everything that has gotten me where I am now, which is quite ironic.

We all know people who are ridiculously famous, and it's a scary thing because all of the sudden people - even the people you are close to - stop being honest with you, stop telling you the truth.

I was afraid of being judged too harshly. But I'd let those fears overwhelm me for far too long.

One girl came up to me - I remember it so vividly - she said, "You're not fit to model socks." It crushed me. But at the same time, it made me unbelievably determined to prove everybody wrong and prove to myself that I could live an incredible life.

I really don't like conference calls to be honest. It's always something that bloody happens with a conference call - universally never works out.

Having children, you have so much more structure in your life. The open-endedness of being a single woman is gone, you know? It's sort of like, from 1 P.M. to 3 P.M. the kids are going to take a nap, so now I have time to sit down and write the lyrics, or once they're put to bed, I have a few hours to focus on those things. I need that. It's a very strange process, really - I can never predict what's going to happen. It always feels uncomfortable and awkward.

I was always the weirdo at school. When I became a model [at 16], I didn't tell anybody. I was terrified that the kids would rip me to pieces.