Oh, I'm not supposed to shove all of them in my mouth at once? And my hat looks like a giant turtle has taken up residence on my head, you say? Thank you so much for turning into a better, a different, person. I'm sure the world will like me better now.

“C”, we’ll call him Chuck, has become a fixture in Lorna’s life. They’re officially dating.

I had just turned 25 and the time had come to “have it all”–every magazine said so. In the early 1980s, young women could should be attentive wives (wink, wink), nurturing mothers, impressive career go-getters, tireless volunteers, gourmet chefs, and upholster furniture in their spare time.

To-do List: look sexy, walk the dog, watch the kids while volunteering at the community pool, cook dinner, finish report for work, Vogue photo shoot.

I could do that. Well, I could be an impressive career go-getter and, with the help of my old pal, Mr. Vodka, perform just fine in the “attentive wife” department. The other parts of “having it all” didn’t suit me very well.

Nurturing Mother: I never liked wanted children. My politically correct reason was because it was socially irresponsible to bring an innocent child into such a screwed up world. The real reason: I trusted myself more with dogs than I did with children. I had the maternal instincts of a giant water bug, which eats it young. I never even adopted a puppy because I was afraid I would traumatize it, or the other way around. Little, dependent creatures of any kind were best left to those who cared about wanted them and would know what to do in an emergency, like if it needed a bath. Let’s face it. I had a full-blown case of pedophobia (fear of children, which is a lot better than pedophilia, I suppose).

It's really about the baby. We all want the baby to be happy. That's why I run from anyone pushing a baby stroller.

Gourmet Chef: Food wasn’t a priority once I discovered drinking. I could eat the same thing (lettuce sandwiches) for months and not get bored. I was getting my calories and my satisfaction from vodka–made from potatoes, a great source of potassium. I had two special meals I cooked: meatloaf and a chicken/rice combo with some kind of cream soup over it.

Unless you're hot for a fire-fighter, you don't need this kind of action in your kitchen. Lettuce sandwiches rarely combust.

Volunteer and Home DYI Extraordinaire: That was just crazy talk. Being a show-stopper at work and charming on dates before passing out was exhausting; so was pretending to be sober. This girl needed her “Pass Out Beauty Sleep.” No time for extra-curricular activities.

The trouble was that I was so good at pretending I was sober and had my act together, Chuck probably figured he’d found a pretty special gal. I wasn’t perfect, though. He found some “rough edges” he helped buff out with constant and public chastising coaching. His mother went to “finishing school” and my mom only finished high school. I became Eliza Doolittle to his Henry Higgins. He didn’t force me; I let him. I knew I was in need of fixing.

Everybody could use a few "improvement" tips, right?

To me, every correction was an act of love. He cared enough about me to fix me. So he told me to crunch raw carrots more quietly and that my opinions on what I was wearing were “wrong.” He cared that much. Chuck wanted me to be a better person in public because he was a person who wanted to be in the public eye. He wanted me with him. But first I had to change become the person he knew I should could be. If that wasn’t love, what was?

Love means you always have to say you're sorry. Wait...that's not quite right.

I did what came naturally: I worked hard to please him. True to form, I was successful.

On Halloween night, 1982, Chuck asked me to marry him. But there were strings attached.

Strings? Was Lorna a woman or a puppet? Stay tuned to find out…