When I told him I would never marry again, I meant it. We were holding hands in a restaurant in Santa Barbara, Calif., on our first weekend away, and I was hiding my nerves behind the boldness of high heels and a garter belt. I wasn’t trying to bait the hook, or reel in the…

I hate Father’s Day. Not because my father died this year, making it the first without him. It was sudden, but we’d exchanged loving New Year’s greetings 10 days earlier. Despite our political differences, we were on good terms. He had enjoyed every day of his 86 years so much that we teased he inspired…

When I was newly engaged in 1986, my grandfather sent a Christmas gift of cash. I knew just what to do with it. There was a strapless, red sequined dress with a chiffon ruffled skirt in the window of a Santa Monica boutique that I’d been eyeing for weeks. After working my way up from…

When I stopped to sign books at Barnes & Noble in NYC, the bookseller asked where I’d like it shelved. My memoir, A Boob’s Life, had been out in hardback for several months, so the question surprised me. First, they walked me to the shelves labeled “Biography,” where celebrity faces smiled back from the book jackets. Then…