Inside my body, I host a little factory. I have tiny workers on a production line, creating Estrogen. They've had job security for the past 30 years. They don't read the newspapers or get time off to watch the news so I am puzzled how they knew about the recession. Apparently, the factory boss has been laying off a lot of workers. In fact, I'm suspecting there has been a hostile takeover by a competitor factory called Testosterone. Either way I still have to deal with the fallout. Whiskers. Thanks to Brooke Shields, my eyebrow plucking was minimized to simply separating my unibrow. Once I outgrew that, I just coasted along with the occasional maverick hair breaching a mole. However, I am a woman with sisters. My sisters scrutinize any and all possible flaws. This year on vacation one sister found a renegade hair and screamed in horror. The other sister, present at the time, reached over and yanked it out. This is my Italian sis...