My boyfriend thinks I lost my true calling to be a librarian.

My first recognition of age setting in was exactly on my 36th birthday. I have no idea why, on this day of all days, I looked in the mirror and realized my face no longer looked young.

Fame is an interesting phenomenon.

I have now spent over a year trying to figure where in the workplace I belong.

I have worked every day since the age of fifteen, supporting not only myself, but also helping a sizable family when needed.

I was fired by 'America's Next Top Model' on my birthday.

I will continue to be intelligent, I vowed, no matter how beautiful I become.

The real bummer of fame is that at some point you're bound to get demoted.

When I model I pretty much go blank. You can't think too much or it doesn't work.

Beauty, unlike the rest of the gifts handed out at birth, does not require dedication, patience and hard work to pay off. But it's also the only gift that does not keep on giving.

Now, I don't actually know the exact cut-off age where beautiful ceases and 'must have-once-been-beautiful' begins. It's true it's not forty-five. I can still get attention when I try really hard, even if it's greatly reduced.