Closets are those dark recesses where people like you and me hide ourselves. My name is Dianne and I spent many years in a closet. I know every nook and cranny. The dark places where we want to hide. You know lugging around that big bag of shame. It offset my pocketbook on the other shoulder.

By the way, my pocketbook was full from all those guilty trips. I would rummage about in it for my lipstick and find all those tissues marked with guilt. You know, the ones that say I can't be me. How about the ones that are marked this is me. I bet you found a few of those also. 1 did. They were they ones I cried into. I bet there isn't a single girl at MOTO who did not do the same. You know, if you break a doughnut in half, all the bad calories drop out. If you tear a tissue in half, all the tears drop off. See how simple I made that. Tissues are for patting powdered noses, not crying into.

When I go to my closet I find it is double racked. Today my closet is used to hold all my nice things that were made for me. On top are my nice tops; on the bottom those Lady Vanderbilts and Gatinos in my size. Closets were not made to hide in. They are very frightful places to take a step out of and be yourself But you can. I did.