I was horrified to learn that Terrell Owens would join my hometown team, the Seattle Seahawks. What were they thinking, hiring a man with an ego the size of the Titanic (and just as likely to self-destruct)? I don’t know from personal experience, but I’m reasonably sure that his poop doesn’t smell any better than the next man’s.

Unlike T.O., I’m kind of nervous about getting in the spotlight. I don’t think that I’d have any problem with public speaking if it didn’t involve public. Sunday, I was invited to join a panel of local authors for a program at the library. Other than a case of insomnia, some rampaging diarrhea, and an ice cream binge prior to the event, I was cool, calm, and collected.

I’m proud to say that I didn’t even pick my nose or scratch at my crotch once (consciously). I did panic slightly when the moderator started throwing out multiple-part questions. My fall-back answer to any quiz is “North Dakota,” which clearly wasn’t going to cut it in this instance. My fellow panel members were also on the mature side, so I can only imagine that they were similarly trying to remember if they closed the garage door.

Sometimes I need an ego boost, and this event did not fail me. I hear Mariah Carey requests $90 bottles of water before a show. Even better, they had peanut butter cookies for us. I was definitely feeling like a star. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why Mariah Carey can wear a size zero dress while I struggle to get one thigh into my Spanx.

Yesterday, I went to the beach with a photographer to get some shots for my next book cover. That brought it all home. That’s why I pig out on cookies at the library and squeeze into my Spanx … because I want to share something I created with others, and because I like peanut butter cookies.

I don’t think I’m in any danger of developing an over-inflated ego. Just remember that if I’m town, I like homemade cookies with enough saturated fats to melt in my mouth … and go straight to my Spanx.